Stella's Smile
by tangledupinmist
Summary: After Shelagh has returned to working with Nonnatus House, Patrick feels as though his life is getting too hectic, both at home and at the surgery. Once he hires a new receptionist, things are beginning to change - for better or for worse, though?
1. Mrs Gillespie

**Mrs. Gillespie**

Patrick entered the hallway of the old school building. He shivered. It smelled exactly as he remembered his old school. Floor polish, chalk dust and lots of young people crammed together. Far away he could hear the sounds of the school orchestra practicing and slowly walked in the direction of the music.

He prided himself with for once having thought of his eldest son, having remembered a date without his wife having had to remind him. Patrick had finished his evening rounds at a patient's house nearby and when it had started to pour down and not stopped he had thought of Timothy, who would still be at orchestra practice.

At sixteen, Timothy would normally not appreciate being picked up, but given the rain that was slowly developing into a major rainstorm, Patrick knew Timothy would be glad, even if he would probably not show his emotions in front of his friends.

Patrick turned around a corner and found himself in front of the auditorium's closed doors through which he heard the music. He should ask Timothy what they were rehearsing. He himself knew hardly anything about music, Patrick thought.

He looked around. There was another parent, a woman, most likely the mother of one of the other pupils, stood next to the doors and was studying the blackboard, announcing all sorts of dates for the school and other events close by.

He cleared his throat, not consciously, out of habit of announcing his presence. The woman turned around and smiled a smile so radiant it made him smile in return.

"Oh, hello, you are also waiting for your musician?"

Patrick nodded. "Yes, I am. Patrick Turner", he said, extending his hand to the woman who was about one foot smaller than him, and, he assumed about his age.

"Stella Gillespie," the woman said in her very warm voice and firmly shook Patrick's offered hand.

"Oh, you must be Caroline's mother, then?" Patrick asked?

The woman raised her eyebrows. "You know my daughter?"

Patrick smiled. "Not in person. I am Timothy Turner's father. Apparently they sit next to each other during orchestra practice."

"Oh, I see," Mrs Gillespie laughed. "Yes, Caroline mentioned Timothy. Bassoon, right?"

Patrick nodded.

"I haven't seen you before, do you regularly pick up Timothy after practice?" Mrs Gillespie asked.

"Normally no, I don't. I happened to be nearby when it began to rain and for once I remembered Tim's schedule right. I assumed he'd appreciate me taking him home in the car."

Mrs Gillespie smiled. Radiantly, Patrick thought. As if the term had been solely invented to describe her smile.

"Do you pick up Caroline regularly?"

"Yes, I do. I am often working late on Thursdays and it fits my schedule to come by and take her home with me. Sometimes we will stop somewhere and have dinner out."

"I used to do this with Tim," Patrick said contemplatively. "Before his younger siblings were born. Thinking of it, he might appreciate to have some father-son time again. We haven't done this in quite a while."

Mrs Gillespie cocked her head and smiled. "You should do it soon then. It won't be long before they are going leave. I should know, I have two grown sons and I never get to see them since they moved out. Even the one who lives around the corner. So I try to enjoy my time with Caroline as long as I can."

Patrick nodded his head in contemplation. She was right. Not long ago, Timothy was just as little as baby Teddy. And now, the boy would soon leave their home, Patrick thought while watching his son amidst a small crowd of other young musicians emerging out of the doors of the auditorium. He had not even noticed the music had stopped during the conversation with the endearing woman.

"Dad, what are you doing here? Is everything alright?" Timothy, carrying his bassoon and school bag exclaimed concerned when he spotted his father.

Patrick smiled and resisted his urge to ruffle his son's hair. The boy was no longer a boy, he thought. "Yes, everything is alright. I was on my rounds not far from here when it started to rain. I thought you'd appreciate a lift home?"

Timothy smiled a relieved smile and nodded. "That would be great, dad."

Meanwhile, Patrick watched Mrs Gillespie hug a girl who with her straight blonde hair and endearingly round cheeks looked like a younger version of her mother. He noticed how affectionately mother and daughter were talking to each other, Mrs Gillespie taking the instrument case off her girl and having put her arm around Caroline's waist.

The two women approached the Turners and Mrs Gillespie said: "Thank you very much, Mr Turner, for the nice chat."

"It is Dr Turner, mum," Caroline corrected her mother.

"Oh, I wasn't aware," Mrs Gillespie said, her cheeks blushing which Patrick found very lovely. "I apologize, Dr Turner."

"Please, no worries," Patrick hurried to say. "I don't particularly insist on the doctor. And hello, Caroline, nice to meet you, finally," he added, addressing the girl.

Caroline smiled politely and returned his handshake.

Mrs Gillespie smiled. "Well, next time I know. Anyway, it was nice meeting you, and I hope to see you sometime around. Perhaps at the Christmas concert?"

"Dad," Timothy said. "Are we going straight home? If so, we could give Caroline and her mum a lift? They wouldn't have to walk through the rain then."

"Oh, thank you, Timothy, this is very considerate of you, but the walk is not that long, and we -" Mrs Gillespie said, but Patrick interrupted: "Of course, I will be glad to take you along. Timothy is right. I have to apologize for not thinking of this myself."

Mrs Gillespie gave him another one of her adorable smiles and Patrick felt an odd tingle to his stomach. Then the four hurried outside to Patrick's car, through the cold early October rain. When everyone had gotten in, Patrick drove off, and asked Mrs Gillespie for directions to their house. Only five minutes later, the car parked in front of a small Victorian house, located in a neatly cared-for garden.

"Here we are," Patrick said, looking at Mrs Gillespie who held out her hand to him. "Thank you very much, Dr Turner, what a lovely thing to do for us tonight."

Patrick smiled. "Anytime, and it really was my pleasure, Mrs Gillespie and Caroline."

After the two women had gotten out of the car and the Turner men had been waiting until they had closed their front door, Patrick drove off again.

"A very nice girl, Caroline," he said to his son. "I had a bit of a chat with her mother while we were waiting for you in the hallway."

Timothy made a humming sound which Patrick interpreted as "Yes, you're right, dad."

Not soon after, Patrick pulled up in front of the Turner's house. Timothy and his father got out of the car and went into the house. As soon as they closed their door, Angela came running and shouted "Daddy, daddy," jumping into her father's arms.

"Hello, little princess," Patrick laughed. "Aren't you getting bigger by the day."


	2. A cup of tea

**A cup of tea**

„Come on, Angela, I am certain Mummy will be home now," Patrick Turner tried to coax his tired daughter to walk the short distance home.

Shelagh had gone to Nonnatus House to sit with a shaken Sister Monica Joan after the elderly nun had been bedridden because of a flu for the past week. Shelagh had volunteered on her husband's day off to give the Nonnatuns, Sister Julienne mainly, a few hours of rest from her worries over their oldest sister.

It was Patrick's first day off in quite some time and he had been looking forward to spending it with his wife and their two younger children. Timothy had long planned on visiting his Granny Parker for the weekend. It would be the birthday of the boy's late mother on Sunday and he had wanted to spend the day with his granny to keep her company and remember their daughter and mother.

Now with Shelagh away, Patrick had had to spend the morning alone with his two youngest. He had taken them to the park and for a lunch of fish and chips. Now everyone was tired and all he wanted was getting home to put down the little ones for a nap and get some rest himself, too.

"No, I can't walk anymore," Angela cried. "Carry me!"

Patrick rolled his eyes. He had to push the heavy pram with Teddy in it and did not want to give in to Angela's cries as they were really quite close to home.

"Angela, we are almost home. You can walk a few more steps, we are almost there."

"No, daddy, I can't," the girl cried and sat herself down on the pavement.

Patrick considered just walking on, when he heard a voice from behind: "Now, little Miss Turner, what is the matter? Are your legs tired?"

Patrick turned around and saw a woman carrying several heavy bags approaching them. Only when she had almost reached the Turner party, Patrick's face lit up recognizing her. He would always recognize her radiant smile. "Mrs Gillespie," Patrick gasped. "Good afternoon. I am sorry you are meeting us in this kind of state," he said excusingly.

"Good afternoon Dr Turner," Mrs Gillespie smiled at Patrick. "Please, never mind. I have three of my own, remember? It is always close to home that they find they can't walk anymore."

Mrs Gillespie put her bags down on the pavement and knelt down in front of Angela. "Good afternoon, my dear. My name is Stella, and who are you?"

Angela watched the unknown woman with big eyes.

"Come on, Angela, say hello to our friend," Patrick urged his daughter.

Angela looked at her father, her face showing a mixture of curiosity and shyness.

"Now go on, Angela, say hello," her father said, almost sharply with impatience now.

Mrs Gillespie cocked her head at the little girl. "Oh no, you don't have to. You are tired and I am a stranger. But I am also the mum of your brother Timothy's friend. My girl, Caroline, used to be a sweet little princess just like you, darling."

Mrs Gillespie raised herself up and looked at Patrick again. "Your little Angela reminds me of my Caroline. Oh my, she would always throw herself on the pavement just opposite the house," she laughed. "Don't make her say hello if she doesn't want to, though. Some little ones are shy and just need a bit of time."

"Now, Angela," Mrs Gillespie said to the little girl and bent down again. "How about I take your left hand and your daddy takes your right hand and we both take you home? Would that help to get you home?"

Angela looked at the woman, slightly puzzled, and when her father nodded approvingly, she slowly got up and they did as Mrs Gillespie had suggested.

"Thank you, Mrs Gillespie," Patrick said. "But I really don't want to keep you from what you were doing."

"Oh, never mind, Dr Turner," the gentle woman said. "I remember how hard it is being alone with the little ones. I only have to get our foodstuffs home," she nodded at the bags still placed on the pavement. "Nothing that can't wait for a few more minutes."

"Well then," Patrick said, putting the two larger bags into Teddy's pram and waited until Mrs Gillespie had lifted the third one. Then the little party slowly began walking towards the Turner's house.

When they reached the Turner's gate, Patrick said, "Thank you again, Mrs. Gillespie." For a moment, he kept looking into the woman's laughing blue eyes. Then he said: "My wife will be due in shortly. Would you want to come in for a cup of tea? I am going to put down the little ones and would appreciate some company until Shelagh gets back. Also, Shelagh certainly will want to meet Caroline's mum, too."

Mrs. Gillespie raised her eyebrows and cocked her head as if she was considering his offer. Then she said "Yes, why not. Caroline is out for the afternoon and I certainly appreciate a bit of company."

15 minutes later, Patrick returned to his kitchen where he had left Mrs Gillespie after he had gone to take the young ones upstairs. He noticed with surprise that his guest had already prepared a pot of tea and placed the crockery on the table.

"I am sorry if I overstepped," Mrs Gillespie said in an apologizing tone when she saw him taking in her in his kitchen, "but I thought you looked tired and certainly would appreciate a cup once the little ones were down."

Patrick smiled thankfully and slumped down on a chair. He sighed and smiled at his guest. "Thank you very much. A cup of tea is just what I need right now. Young children can be so very tiring. And, well, I am not the youngest anymore," he added, chucking.

Mrs Gillespie sat down opposite of him and poured tea. Both then stirred sugar and milk into the steaming liquid.

"I remember how tired I was all the time with the little ones. My boys were born only a few years apart while my husband was… mostly not at home. And it was a lot. You deserve a rest. You certainly are working odd hours frequently, being a GP?"

Mrs Gillespie looked at Patrick and a silent understanding passed between the two. Patrick knew she was referring to the war when she mentioned her husband having not been with her. And he knew she understood he had been in the army, too.

"At first I thought Timothy and Caroline would become more than friends but I assume it was just hoping," Mrs Gillespie chuckled in an attempt to steer away from the gloomy topic of the war experience looming over them.

Patrick raised his eyebrows. Apparently the woman knew more about his son's interest in girls than he and Shelagh did. "Oh, is it? I only remember Timothy mentioning he wanted to sit next to her in orchestra practice."

"Well, he has taken her home a few times but no more.." Mrs Gillespie looked out of the window for a while before she continued. "Caroline does not tell me much about boys. I just hope there is not much to tell," she chuckled. "But she said she likes Timothy but more like a good friend and not like, well, like … more."

Patrick smiled. "Oh well, he will get over it. Young people's hearts can bear their share of pain, I am sure. We all have, haven't we. And I am not saying this as a doctor, if you know what I mean."

Mrs Gillespie gave him a weary smile and watched her hands while stirring her tea absent-mindedly for a while.

Then she raised her head again and looked at Patrick, with an earnest expression: "Caroline told me once she likes to talk to Timothy because they share the experience of losing a parent early in life. She said he lost his mother when he was only nine years old. I, too, lost my husband. He died when Caroline was only four. My oldest was 12 by the time, but it was hard for all of us. Still is." Her voice trailed off and she enclosed her tea cup with both her hands.

While listening to his visitor, a shadow passed over Patrick's face. The memory of having lost his late wife still stung his heart, even though this had been seven years ago and he had happily moved on since.

Patrick watched Mrs Gillespie for a moment before he said quietly: "It is hard to bring up a child on one's own, isn't it? I can only imagine how it must have been with three of them."

"Yes, it is. You can hardly deal with your own pain most times but you have to help the little ones with theirs. And then there are all the many things you have to do. I mean, I was used to being on my own, but still, it was hard…"

Mrs Gillespie took a deep breath and carried on, her voice firmer now: "You were lucky, you found another wife who became a good mother to Timothy. I wasn't so lucky. Which is not to say that you don't deserve it," she paused, looking at Patrick apologetically. "But I managed to raise Caroline and the boys just right. Both stand on their own feet and one is about to start his own family now. It is not easy getting used to the home getting quieter. It won't be long until Caroline will be gone."

"I remember the first weeks after Marianne died," Patrick said quietly. "I thought I would never manage. Looking back now, we did, though I don't know how, really. And it wasn't that long afterwards that I married to Shelagh. But still, I don't wish anyone to have to go through it. I can only imagine how hard it must have been for you."

Mrs Gillespie smiled a sad smile. "Caroline was the age of your Angela when Martin died. It is still hard for me to think that she will never be able to remember her father. I always thought it ironic. He returned from the war in one piece only to die from the flu. This was not fair. But what is fair, really?" her voice trailed off.

Patrick nodded in agreement.

The two people sat in silence for a while, both contemplating lost loves and all the years having gone by since.

Mrs Gillespie suddenly looked at her watch. "Oh, I have to go, I am sorry. I still have to do a few things and I won't get dinner on the table in time if I don't hurry up now."

While she was talking, Mrs Gillespie got up from her chair and began to clear the table. Patrick stilled her by putting his left hand to her right forearm. She raised her head and looked into his eyes. Patrick momentarily was at a loss of words, but quickly forced himself to regain his composure. "Please, leave it for me to clean up. I want to thank you for the nice company."

Stella smiled warmly and nodded at him. "Thank you for the lovely afternoon, it was certainly an hour well spent," she said. "I am sorry I missed your wife, though," she added while Patrick ushered her out ot the hallway and helped her into her coat. His hands lingered on her shoulders for just a second, and he thought they felt a warmth radiating from the intriguing woman's body right into his soul.

* * *

"I had a visitor today. I thought you would be back by 2 o'clock, that is why I invited her in, so you two would have been able to meet," Patrick said while he was watching Shelagh prepare their dinner. Shelagh gave him a questioning look and Patrick explained: "Mrs Gillespie, Caroline's mother, happened to come along when Angela began to cry just five minutes away from home. She helped me to bring her home. I invited her in for a cup of tea and we had a nice chat."

"Oh, I am so sorry. I just lost track of time. I suppose I was happy to for once be at Nonnatus House all by myself. Sister Julienne was not as busy as usual and we had a very hearty talk. She is worried about Barbara," Shelagh said.

Patrick smiled and lovingly brushed his wife's cheek with the outside of his fingers. "Yes, we all are," he said earnestly.

"So how is she, Mrs Gillespie?" Shelagh asked after a short pause.

"She is a lovely woman. She is a widow, lost her husband twelve years ago. Caroline was Angela's age she said," Patrick added.

"Perhaps this is what Timothy and Caroline appreciate about each other?" Shelagh guessed. "Both having lost a parent at young age?"

Patrick shrugged his shoulders. Right now, he couldn't care less about either Caroline or her mother. He was looking forward to an evening with his wife, and just her, and was counting the hours until they could put the little ones to sleep.


	3. Fate wants us to get to know each other

**Fate wants us to get to know each other**

"Mrs Gillespie is next, Patrick," Shelagh said, putting the file of said patient on her husband's desk.

"Mrs Gillespie? As in Caroline Gillespie?" Patrick asked puzzled. "She hasn't, -"

Shelagh interrupted him: "No, she is not a regular patient of ours, she is one of Dr Matthews' patients. You are his locum during his sick leave."

"Oh, I see, send her in, please," Patrick said, looking at his new patients' file his wife had just brought in.

"Mrs Gillespie, good afternoon," Patrick looked up and greeted the blonde woman who entered his office right after Shelagh had left.

"Good afternoon, Dr Turner," Mrs Gillespie replied, smiling her beaming smile. "What a coincidence, isn't it? It seems fate wants us to get to know each other," she chuckled. "This is the third time we have inadvertently encountered each other in not yet three weeks."

Patrick had had gotten up from his chair and extended his hand to Mrs Gillespie. He nodded towards the visitor's chair and sat down when she did.

"So what brings you here today?" Patrick asked.

"My arm. I wanted to wait for Dr Matthews to be back. But after my neighbour told me this morning that he is going to be ill for what seems like another week, I thought I should have this seen to," she said while she carefully rolling up her blouse, followed by slowly removing a bandage covering an infected wound the size of a cigarette packet.

Patrick raised his eyebrows. "When did this happen?" He got up from his chair, hurried around his desk and carefully reached out for Mrs Gillespie's arm while he sat down on the second visitor's chair.

She drew in a sharp breath when he touched her skin near the wound while examining it. "It is alright, go on," she hissed, when Patrick stopped his actions, looking into her face. "It happened last Friday. The boys were due to visit for the weekend, both of them, and I was in a hurry to get the ironing done. I moved too quickly and clumsily so that I bumped against the ironing board and the hot iron fell on my arm."

Mrs Gillespie took in another sharp breath when Patrick lightly squeezed her skin in an attempt to assess the state of the infection.

"I cleaned the wound but I must not have taken sufficient care and I was distracted with all my children home, so by Monday it had become infected."

"It is Thursday now, Mrs Gillespie," Patrick scolded mildly. "You know yourself you are a bit late." He looked at her earnestly. "Now, I am going to clean it properly," he explained, "and I am going to prescribe an antibiotic. I am afraid you may be close to a sepsis given the size of the inflammation, so I would like to see you in two days time again."

Patrick took a kidney basin, antiseptic and sterile cotton from a drawer and began to meticulously clean his patient's wound. Mrs Gillespie kept biting her teeth and occasionally drew in a sharp breath, trying to remain calm.

"Didn't you say one of your boys was with the navy? So he is home now?" Patrick asked.

"Yes, Gerald is with the navy, the middle one. He is staying with his brother in Earls Court at the moment. He got back from Australia last week and he is due to leave for France later this month again. He's been out for over six months. I have never been without any of my children for such a long time. But I better get used to it," she added, her face momentarily sad.

"You must have been happy then to have had all three of them with you?" Patrick asked.

"Oh yes," Mrs Gillespie laughed, "this happens so rarely by now." Gerald spending most of the time on some ship and Thomas hardly visits his old mother ever since he has gotten engaged."

"Oh, please, whom do you call old?" Patrick laughed. "Just the other day someone asked Angela whether I was her grandfather while I was out with her and the baby."

Mrs Gillespie raised her eyebrows. "Oh really? This was not very polite. But don't you agree that men have an advantage over women? For us, there is an end to having children which may enhance one's perception of being old. Not that I mind, I wouldn't want to have a little one anymore. Not at my age. Grandchildren are another thing, though. Thomas and Sophie are planning to get married next spring and I can't wait to become a grandmother."

Patrick contemplated for a while, still cleaning the wound on Mrs Gillespie's arm.

"Well, according to your file, you are indeed a few years younger than me, if you allow me to be so bold," he finally said. "We are five years apart, if I calculated correctly." He looked at her, a part of him dreading her reaction at him mentioning her age, but his patient kept looking at him with an amused half-smile.

"I hope Timothy is going to wait a few more years before I become a grandfather. With two little ones in the house, I am looking forward to the time where they become more independent. I am amazed at how I have seemingly erased all memories of the time Tim was so little."

Mrs Gillespie smiled warmly. "I understand. As much as I miss them, I don't miss the time when they were so little," she laughed. "Though they are never again going to cuddle and kiss you so much. And before you know it you will walk Angela to the altar and she is going to kiss another man."

"Oh, never," Patrick chuckled. "I think a father never wants to think of his little girl leaving him." He reached for a bandage and carefully put it on Mrs Gillespie's arm. "Now I am going to cover the wound. Please leave the cover on and keep your arm clean and dry. I am going to write a prescription for an antibiotic and I will see you in two days to check on the wound."

Mrs Gillespie got up while Patrick began writing the prescription. "Thank you, Doctor." She smiled her radiant smile and Patrick had to wilfully release her hand after holding it a bit longer than might be considered appropriate in his situation.

* * *

A few weeks later, Patrick walked home from the surgery. His car needed maintenance and Fred had promised to take care of it until next morning. After Patrick had arranged for a colleague to cover his afternoon rounds and evening calls, he had opted to walk home to enjoy a good half hour of time all by himself before playing with the little ones.

Even though it was mid-November, it was a very sunny and mild autumn day, a perfect day for a little stroll, Patrick mused. He was walking along the street thinking about how winter wasn't far away now. He was already seeing a steadily increasing number of patients suffering from flu and various respiratory diseases. He thought about whether he should increase the weekly hours of his chest clinic when he heard a familiar voice calling "Good afternoon Dr Turner. This is an unusual sight, seeing you on foot."

He looked up and noticed Mrs Gillespie standing in front of her house, trying to move a heavy wooden table all by herself.

"Do you need a hand?" he asked and entered her garden.

"Oh now, if you have to go home, never mind, I'll muddle through," the woman laughed.

Approaching her, Patrick thought she was looking radiant. A few strands of her blonde hair had come loose and the tiniest beads of sweat were covering her nose and forehead, all causing her to glow in the late afternoon sunshine.

"How in the world did you move this thing outside, and why?" Patrick asked while he put his hands on the piece of furniture to lift it.

"Caroline helped me put it outside this morning. It needed a treatment with furniture polish and I didn't want to do it inside because of the smell. It is my late husband's grandmother's dining table, our most treasured piece of furniture. And our heaviest one, I believe", she laughed. "I thought I could just leave it outside but I just heard on the radio that it is going to rain tonight."

Mrs Gillespie was now standing opposite Patrick, each one gripping the table at their end.

"Now, let me count to three," she said and did as she had announced. Both lifted the table and they slowly carried the heavy item inside, Patrick first, walking backwards and Mrs Gillespie following him.

"Where to?" Patrick panted, backing into the house.

"End of the hallway to your right, into the living room," Mrs. Gillespie shouted from her end of the table.

Once they had set down the table, Mrs Gillespie beamed at Patrick. "Thank you very much, doctor, I appreciate your help."

"Well, this is what neighbours are there for," Patrick replied, smiling. "If you consider three streets in between still as neighbours." He carefully rubbed his back, trying not to let on he was feeling an uncomfortable sting.

Mrs Gillespie responded with her bell-like laughter and cocked her head in the fashion that had struck Patrick a few times as very attractive by now. She adjusted her hair and asked: "This time would you allow me to invite you for a cup of tea?"

Patrick nodded in accordance. He wasn't yet expected at home and his family could wait. When had he last done something without either work or family anyway?

Half an hour later Patrick and Mrs Gillespie sat in her kitchen and she poured them both their third cup of tea, this time adding a generous splash of whisky from a bottle she had just taken out of one of the kitchen cupboards. "I think we earned this one. And with the breeze coming up outside you'll appreciate a bit of warmth when going home later, now that the sun has vanished. Not that I want to throw you out," she said, looking him into his face. "I rather enjoy your company, I am afraid to admit."

Patrick chuckled. "Why afraid? Didn't you think I was able to do conversation?"

Mrs Gillespie laughed. "Oh no. But you always seem so busy and so earnest. From getting to know Timothy I know you are a decent father. But it is only now that I have gotten to appreciate your humour and wit, I didn't know you were such a funny man. Most men your, well, our age, have somehow lost their sense of humour along the way. Don't ask me why," she said, pulling a face at Patrick.

"Or maybe it is just me not being used to male company anymore," she added, blushing slightly, casting down her eyes.

"I am sorry you haven't been able to find another man appreciating your kindness," Patrick said. He instantly realized what he had said and cleared his throat: "I am sorry, that didn't come out as I intended. I find you a very kind and gentle woman, very pleasant company. You deserve happiness, that is what I wanted to say."

Mrs Gillespie smiled. "Maybe I wasn't looking for one."

"I am sorry, I didn't mean to offend you," Patrick hurried to say.

"Oh no, Dr Turner, none taken. In fact, for years after Martin's death, all of my friends and family kept suggesting I should remarry. But at first it hurt too much and then I began to appreciate my independence. I was a secretary when I met Martin, he was working at a bank. We got married, we had a child, I stayed at home. I stayed at home for almost 15 years, when before I had earned my own living for almost five. But Martin wouldn't have it, he didn't want people to think he could not provide for us."

Patrick nodded. "I think this is what most men think. With Shelagh, I could never stop her from working. She quit her work when we got married but I always knew she would return. In fact, she recently went back to midwifery full time and even though I would never say anything to her, it has added a bit of a strain to us. You know, childcare, the household, there is still a lot where we have yet to establish new routines. But she is happy and she excels at her profession, this is why I would never want her to not work."

"You really are a decent man," Mrs Gillespie said. "Well, I am not sure if I will be excelling at my profession anytime soon", she continued after a pause.

Patrick raised his eyebrows. "Why is that?" he asked.

"I received my notice two weeks ago. I used to be a secretary at Milton's tea traders. Son took over from father and wanted a fresh start, so half of his father's former employees had to go," she explained with a sad voice. "Almost all of the office staff, those working in direct contact with him."

Instinctively, Patrick reached out and lightly patted her left hand which lay on the table, next to her tea cup. Stella slightly winced at his touch but relaxed very quickly. "I am sorry," he said. "You don't deserve this."

Mrs Gillespie laughed bitterly. "No, no one really does. So I have been doing all sorts of things around the house," she paused and made a waving gesture with her right hand, "I am one for keeping me busy. We do have a modest amount of savings from Martin which will keep us going for a while, but I am not made for sitting home idle."

Patrick smiled warmly at her. "No, indeed, you don't strike me as the idle type," he said. Suddenly, he realized that his hand was still resting on hers. He quickly pulled it back and an awkward silence fell onto the two, only interrupted by the ticking of the clock on the kitchen wall. Both stared into their almost empty cups for a while until Mrs Gillespie looked up again and said: "We do seem to get along quite well. How about first names? With us being similar in age, what do you think? I am Stella."

Patrick looked at her in surprise: "Erm, yes, thank you. Patrick, …Patrick."

Stella extended her hand across the table, a happy grin spreading widely over her face. She looked girlish, Patrick thought and it made him grin, too. "Well, thank you, Patrick. The first mature friend I have made in quite a while."

Patrick took her hand and squeezed it a bit more tightly and quite a bit longer than he normally would. Both looked at each smiling happily for a while until Stella asked: "Another cup for the way? I am certain it must be quite cold outside by now."

Patrick looked at her intently and slowly pulled back his hand. "Erm, I think I better go. I have been intruding more than I should have. Thank you for the lovely company."

"It is me who needs to thank you," Stella smiled and both got up from the kitchen table. "You did the heavy lifting. Don't think I didn't notice that you bent your back. You need to be more careful. We are not getting any younger, Patrick."

Patrick looked at her and laughed. "Oh Stella, you got me there. Yes, I did probably hurt my back a bit, but it was worth it for the tea and tipple, not to forget the good company."

Stella walked Patrick to the front door. "Good bye, Patrick," she said once he had put on his coat. "Good bye Stella," he said and both looked at each other again before Patrick turned around and left for his own home.


	4. A new receptionist

**A new receptionist**

When Patrick entered his house, he smelled burnt food. Immediately, adrenaline shot through his veins. If Shelagh had burnt their food, something must have happened, something serious. He entered the kitchen where he found a pan still smoking, carelessly thrown into the sink. He noticed burnt potatoes sticking to the bottom of the pot. On the worktop sat a chopping board with a few carrots and onions, already cut into small pieces, on it. Just when he turned his head to see whether anyone was in the living room, Patrick noticed Timothy walking down the stairs carrying his baby brother.

"Dad, thank god you're home," his oldest sighed with relief. His face was pale and his expression earnest. Only Teddy squeaked with happiness when he saw his father.

"What is it, Timothy?" Patrick asked alarmed, ignoring his baby son's arms indicating the little one wanted to be held by his father.

"Dad, can you please go upstairs and check on Mum? When I came home she was sitting at the table crying and the potatoes were burning. I took the pot off the oven and sent her upstairs. I don't know what but something must have upset her terribly."

Timothy hadn't yet finished talking when Patrick ran upstairs, taking two steps at a time. He quietly entered their bedroom and found his wife lying on the bed, facing downward, her movements indicating she was sobbing.

"Shelagh?" he asked, his voice pained. "What is it, talk to me, please."

He carefully sat down next to her and stroked her back. Only after a few minutes, the sobbing began to ebb and Shelagh turned her head to the left so he was able to see her face. Patrick felt awful seeing her red, puffy eyes, still damp with tears.

"Shelagh, love, tell me what has upset you so, will you?" he said, almost whispering.

Shelagh swallowed and said with a voice hoarse from crying: "I am so sorry, Patrick. I don't know what is wrong with me. I just felt… I felt like I just can't go on anymore. Teddy has kept me awake with his teething for almost a week now, Angela cut a hole into my uniform this morning and then I had a very upsetting day at work. With Barbara gone they need me and I am so happy to be working at Nonnatus House again, but this week has been more than I can take."

Patrick shifted on the bed so he was able to draw his wife's head into his lap. He began to stroke her hair. "Shelagh, love, I am going to tell you something and I beg you to not be upset with me. But I have been afraid this day might come. Since Nurse Hereward's death I have been watching you get torn between me and the surgery, Nonnatus House and the children. I know you want to do everything, but don't you feel we need to perhaps slow down a bit somewhere?"

Shelagh huffed in desperation. "But Patrick, where? It has been like this for four weeks and with Christmas coming up I really don't know where to begin. With Granny Parker being ill and Mrs Penney only available on two or three days a week, I really can't rely on anyone to leave the children with. And who will be taking care of all the chores? Have you ever noticed the laundry bin which just never seems to be empty with us two at work and three children?" Shelagh sighed in a powerless voice.

Patrick considered his wife's words for a while until he spoke: "If it is too much, we need to think about a way where we can reduce the burden on all of us. Until we have found a solution, I suggest that we ask Tim to help watching the children. He can pick up Angela from nursery when he returns from school and watch her while he does his homework. She rarely gets up to any mischief, he could do this. Teddy, we will find someone to watch him on the days you are at work. I am certain the Nurses will know a capable young girl interested in earning a bit of money for a few hours every week? And loyalty to Mrs Penney, fine, but don't you think we need a housekeeper who can take on more than she can?"

Shelagh smiled a tired smile. She slowly sat up and adjusted her hair. Then she leaned against her husband, thankfully accepting his embrace. "You are right, Patrick," she began and paused for a moment. "I have been thinking about something else, for a while," she continued hesitantly at first, turning her head so she could look at his face.

Patrick looked at her in surprise: "Tell me, then."

"I think it would be good if we hired a receptionist for the surgery. At least part time." Shelagh looked at her husband, her expression showing she was not certain about her husband's reaction to her suggestion.

"Shelagh, this is a perfect idea," Patrick exclaimed. "Why didn't I think of it? I am so sorry, I should have thought of it myself. I have been increasingly concerned with you being torn between all your many tasks."

He paused and looked at his wife lovingly. "In fact, I walked past Mrs Gillespie's house earlier. We chatted for a while and she told me that she was laid off a few days ago. She is a secretary by training, we could ask her."

Shelagh bit her lips and contemplated her husband's idea for a while. "I don't know, Patrick. Has she ever worked in a medical environment, in a surgery?"

Patrick frowned. "I don't know for sure. Probably not, but she strikes me as a very open and polite person, also well-organized. I think she could be fit for this task. Why don't we call her tomorrow and ask her to come by during lunch break?"

Shelagh drew in a deep breath before she slowly nodded. "I think I don't have much of a choice," she sighed. "I feel I just can't take anymore. We urgently need someone."

Patrick carefully cupped her face with both of his hands. "There is a new pill I just read about the other day. It might help you sleep and calm down during the day. It is called Valium. You might want to try and see whether it will help you relax. I can prescribe it to you if you want to."

Shelagh blinked her eyes, feeling fresh tears. She slowly nodded. "Yes," she whispered. "Perhaps this would be a good idea. Right now, I have the feeling that everything is just getting a bit too much. Like a huge wave, threatening to crush me."

Patrick placed a light kiss on her cheek and drew her into a tight embrace. He rested his head on her hair and whispered: "I am going to take care of you. Prevent the wave from crushing you, alright? Why don't we carry out a few checks tomorrow morning right before surgery starts and then I am going to write you a prescription?"

Shelagh leant backwards and looked into his eyes:" Checks? What do you mean? I feel perfectly healthy?"

Patrick swallowed. "Well, after…" he paused, "after Distaval, I think it best to make sure you are not pregnant before…" his voice faded out and Shelagh smiled another tired smile.

"Patrick, this is considerate of you. I don't think there is anything we are going to find. But you are right, let us make sure there is nothing to worry about."

The next morning, the Turners took care to arrive earlier than usual at surgery. Shelagh had taken Teddy along and left a note for Mrs Penney that Patrick would bring him to the house later before a house call he was going to make in the vicinity.

"You were right," Patrick said to his wife, watching her adjusting her uniform after she had sat up from on the examination table. Both had been expecting the result as neither was able to remember the last time a possible conception might have taken place. Their life had become so busy and tiring that it took an occasion like this to notice.

"Well, yes, I was," Shelagh said, blushing lightly, obviously wondering how long it had been since last time. Patrick gave her a mischievous grin, bent down and whispered in her ear: "It has been a while, I know."

Shelagh's face turned almost crimson while her husband straightened up his upper body while lovingly tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I am going to write your prescription," he said. "You still can go get it before work." Then he walked to his chair, sat down and retrieved his prescription pad. Next to his desk, Teddy was playing with a few building blocks and kidney dishes. His parents did not mind the loud clinking noises he produced as they were rather glad for having their youngest distracted so they could finish their private business.

Shelagh looked at Patrick and smiled. "Thank you. I know I can always rely on you, Patrick."

She got up from the exam table she had still been sitting on and slowly walked over to stand beside her husband. After Patrick handed her the prescription, Shelagh studied it for a while and suddenly said: "Mrs Gillespie, Patrick. We should call her now before I have to go. How about I call her and you get ready for the day?"

Patrick nodded and Shelagh hurried outside towards her reception desk. A few minutes later she returned to her husband's office, smiling. "Now, Mrs Gillespie was quite happy about my call. She said she could come by during your lunch break and we can talk to her about the position. I will make sure I can be with you. I could explain everything and perhaps she will want to stay during afternoon surgery to familiarize what her tasks would be."

Patrick, still sitting on his chair, reached out his hand, indicating his wife to come closer. Shelagh approached her husband so that when she was standing next to him, he could sling his arm around her waist while leaning his head against her abdomen. "I love you, Shelagh. And we will manage, we always do." He looked up at Shelagh's face. "With Mrs Gillespie coming to help, I am sure we have made a start in making things easier on us." Shelagh sighed a relieved sigh and the couple remained in their position for a long moment, each revelling in being close to the other.

A few hours later, Patrick had closed his surgery and was waiting for both Mrs Gillespie and Shelagh when the phone rang. While he jogged from his office to the reception desk, he heard a knock on the door. He quickly opened it and made a gesture to the slightly surprised Mrs Gillespie to enter. Then he jumped to the phone and answered it, almost breathlessly.

"Mr. Thomas, yes. But it is… oh, I see, yes. Of course. Yes, tell her that I will come by later to check on your wife. Good bye."

Patrick hung up the phone and looked at his guest. "I am sorry. That was the husband of one of our expecting mothers. Apparently she is in labour, four weeks early. Shelagh is with her and the birth is already well underway, so she won't be able to join us. She asked Mr Thomas to let me know she wants the two of us to speak without her."

Stella smiled her radiant smile. "Oh, too bad. I was looking forward to learning about what has to be done here," she nodded towards the desk. "Should I just come back tomorrow then?"

Patrick shook his head. "No, now that you are here, let us talk about what we need here at the surgery." He ushered her into the direction of his office. "I am sorry," he said while they entered the room. "I can't even offer you a cup of tea, I forgot to brew a fresh pot and if I begin now I will be late for my afternoon rounds."

Stella smiled at him while she shook off her coat and both sat down, Patrick on his office chair, and Stella on the visitor's chair. "Yes, looks like you definitely need someone to take care of all these little things," she said, looking around while a knowing smile playing around her lips. "So, tell me, what are you expecting of a receptionist at your surgery, Dr Turner?" Stella asked eagerly.

Patrick smiled nonchalantly. "I thought I was going to ask the questions," he chuckled, "but, well, Mrs Gillespie, what I am expecting is punctuality, politeness and a person who is well-organized and can handle our filing system."

Stella cocked her head. "This sounds like something I can do," she smiled. "I am never late, I am a very polite person and as a secretary, I am trained to be the most organized person in the workplace."

Patrick laughed. "Welcome to the Kenilworth Row Surgery and Maternity Home then. That is if Shelagh agrees and if you find you can work with her filing system. But I don't see any problems with it."

"Thank you, Dr Turner," Stella said in a firm voice while rising from her chair. "I appreciate your offer and your support. There is no need to keep you any longer. I am going to be here tomorrow before you open the surgery. I hope your wife will be here, so she can give me an introduction to the reception desk and the filing system."

"We will do as you ask," Patrick said and got up from his chair. He walked Stella outside, placing his right hand on the small of her back. He felt her lightly flinch upon his hand's first contact with her back but noticed her leaning back ever so carefully. He also noticed a feeling of satisfaction deep down in his belly at her easing into his contact.

"Good bye, Stella," Patrick said when they arrived at the door. Stella turned to face him and grinned. She raised her hands and carefully adjusted his tie. "Good bye, Patrick," she said, looking him into his eyes. "I assume a receptionist is also supposed to make sure the doctor is looking presentable before he heads out to see his patients?" she asked playfully.

Patrick grinned and nodded. "Absolutely. I think we hired the right person then."


	5. Not a good idea

**Not a good idea**

One evening, a little over three weeks later, Patrick walked out of his office, ready to leave for home. It was already past seven, and he huffed in surprise when he noticed Stella still sitting at her desk, bent over a small pile of files. "Stella, why are you still here?" he exclaimed, "You should be home with Caroline by now."

"Oh, I lost track of time," Stella laughed. "I went through the files of patients we haven't seen in over ten years and only noticed ten minutes ago that my time had already been up an hour ago. But I may as well finish this task."

"Now, let it sit until tomorrow and let me drive you home," Patrick said.

"Oh, no," Stella exclaimed, "please, you should go home to your family now. I will be alright, I'll only need a few more minutes and then I am going to take the bus."

"No, I insist, "Patrick said. "You are such a valuable addition to the surgery, I want to make sure you get home safely this late."

Stella cocked her head and contemplated his words for a few seconds. "Well, now, if you insist," Stella laughed, "then I won't say no any longer." She laid down her pen, got up and went to get her coat from the coat rack.

"Here, let me," Patrick said while approaching her and extended his hand so he could help her into her coat. Stella looked at him in surprise. Once she had slid into her coat, his hands lingered on her shoulders for a short while and Stella froze under his touch.

Then she bent down to take her handbag and both walked towards the door in silence. Stella closed the surgery door behind her and locked it with her key which she then put away into her handbag. Patrick watched her, and when they began to walk through the corridor towards the front door, he carefully placed his left hand on the small of her back. Upon sensing his touch, Stella leaned back and abruptly stood still. She half turned around to face Patrick, who had stopped, too, and suddenly her face was close to his. Both remained still for just a few seconds until Patrick bent down and placed a quick kiss on her cheek.

Stella's face flushed and her trademark sweet smile lit her face. She raised on her tiptoes and returned the kiss, equally quick, but on his lips.

"Patrick, I am not sure this is such a good idea," she whispered after she had taken half a step back.

Patrick looked into her eyes and nodded, hardly visible.

"I know," he whispered back. "I know." He looked at her and, after a few seconds, added: "It is probably not."

They remained standing in silence for a while, looking at each other longingly. Until Patrick closed the distance between them and enclosed Stella in a tight embrace in which they remained for another few minutes.

Then Stella stepped back again and said, quietly: "I think I better go, you are expected home, with your family."

Patrick nodded, but replied: "Stella, I am going to drive you, no argument. I won't let you walk home alone in the dark."

Stella smiled at him, turned around and walked along the hallway, into the direction of Patrick's car parked on the street outside.

The drive to her house was silent. Patrick and Stella only occasionally glanced at each other and just before Patrick took the last turn into Stella's street, he reached out with his left hand and tightly squeezed both of hers, firmly gripped together on her lap, just for a second.

"Thank you, Patrick," Stella whispered when the car had come to a halt in front of her house and hastily got out, without looking at him again. She quickly walked towards her front door which she entered without turning around again until Patrick slowly drove off.

When he arrived home, he noticed the lights upstairs, indicating Shelagh was taking Angela and Teddy to bed. Patrick noticed by a quick glance at his watch that it was already past 8 pm and he hurried inside. Just after he had hung up his coat, he heard Shelagh's gentle footsteps coming down the stairs.

"You're late today, Patrick?" she asked while she approached him and kissed him on the cheek. Patrick drew her into a tight embrace and breathed in the scent of her hair before answering: "Good to be home, dear. I am sorry, I wanted to finalize the forms they sent from the ministry of health. With the end of the year coming up, everyone wants to have their forms completed. I should have called but lost track of time."

"Never mind. I expected you to be working on those forms. I know how much you like to get them off your desk. But I hope you didn't keep Mrs Gillespie late."

"Oh, "Patrick said, "well, actually she lost track of time, too. She was busy going through the files of our very old cases and then I took her home. She wanted to take the bus but I didn't want her to walk through the dark when we practically have the same way home."

Shelagh took a step back, holding her husband by his upper arms. "You are such a gentleman, Dr Turner. I know why I married you." Then she turned around and indicated for him to follow her into the kitchen where he noticed his place was set for a late dinner. "And I know why I married you," he murmured.

* * *

During the following days, Patrick and Stella carefully tiptoed around each other. They would look at the other with occasional longing glances, or permit a small smile while secretly watching one another carrying out their tasks. Both kept a strictly professional appearance, with Stella leaving as soon as her time was up and both taking care of not being alone with the other in the same room for too long.

Until, about one week after the incident that had taken both by surprise, Stella knocked on Patrick's door. It was his lunch break, the maternity home was quiet and the surgery door locked. Shelagh, Stella knew, had been on night shift the night before and was supposed to spend the early afternoon catching up with her sleep while the children were still looked after by others.

Stella entered just after she had knocked. Patrick, who was sitting on his desk, head buried in his hands, looked up when he heard her enter. Before he could say something, Stella began: "Patrick, I think we need to talk."

He nodded towards the chair in front of his desk where Stella sat down.

"Patrick," she said slowly and looked at him earnestly. "We need to talk about what happened the other night."

Patrick nodded again and swallowed. "Yes, I think we ought to."

"What happened happened, I think, with both of us wanting it, but also knowing it was wrong." She paused and looked into his face.

Patrick looked at her with a neutral expression and Stella proceeded: "We are both mature adults and we both have lost a spouse. I think neither of us wants their families to suffer again, so nothing is going to happen between us. I like your wife and I adore your children. And no matter what I feel for you, I would never be able to destroy a family. If you want me to, I am going to hand in my notice now."

Patrick raised his eyebrows. "Stella, no. No, this is not what I want." He paused and buried his face in his hands for a short moment. Then he looked at her again and proceeded: "Stella, I feel the same about you. I do feel attracted to you and I feel so very comfortable with you around. It's not like I am madly in love, it rather is… we are the same age, we have gone through some of the same things in life. We understand each other on so many levels."

"Patrick," Stella began but he shook his head. "Please, Stella," he said. "Let me finish. I need to tell you just how much I appreciate you and your support. And I appreciate what you just said. I, too, would never want to break up a family, not mine, not yours. But as you said, we are mature adults and we can control ourselves. I do not want you to hand in your notice. I rather would like to have you around. As my receptionist and my friend."

Stella looked at him intently. Then her lovely smile spread over her face. She moved a bit closer to his desk and extended her hand to cover his, laying limp on his desk, with hers. "Who knows what might have happened if we had met a few years earlier?" she asked.

"Yes, who knows," Patrick said while he got up and walked around his desk towards her. Stella got up too and both hugged tightly for a short moment before retreating again. Patrick looked at Stella, then bent down and brushed her cheek with his lips. "Nothing more is going to happen, but I must tell you how lovely you are, how sweet you look, with that sunny smile of yours. It makes me happy whenever I see you sit at the desk outside, smiling at a patient or at me walking by."

Stella smiled and extended her hands to adjust Patrick's tie. "You know, almost every time I see you here in your office I feel tempted to do this. I don't know how you are doing it but your tie never seems right during the afternoons."

Patrick covered her hands, still fidgeting with his tie, with his left hand and squeezed gently. "Please feel free to do so. I want to look professional for my patients. And I appreciate you taking care of me."

Stella cocked her head and carefully brushed a strain of hair out of his forehead. "You should consider combing your hair before you go on your rounds, doctor," she said teasingly.

Patrick laughed, "Anything else, Mrs Gillespie?"

"Yes, hurry up now, out on your rounds or you'll be late again," Stella said and hurried out of his office in order to fetch Patrick the list she had prepared for this afternoon's house calls.


	6. A capable woman

**A capable woman**

Christmas came and went and all of a sudden, everyone found themselves in the new year 1964. Patrick noticed that for quite some time now he was looking forward to every morning he arrived at his surgery and found Stella at her desk, greeting him with her lovely smile, a few friendly words and, first thing after he had sat down at his desk, a hot cup of tea.

She had quickly become a favourite of his patients, too, with many pointing out to Patrick that while they were sorry Mrs Turner was no longer working at the surgery, he had been dealt with a very lucky hand in finding her replacement.

One afternoon early in January, Patrick returned to the surgery after his rounds and was surprised to find his wife at the receptionists' desk, Teddy on her lap. Angela was sitting on the floor, colouring on a sketch pad.

"Now this is a surprise," he exclaimed when entering the surgery. "Where's Stella?

"I sent her home. I felt she has been working so hard in the past weeks, even coming in during the holidays, so she deserved a break. Also she volunteered to come in for an extra shift on Friday. That is when you wanted to put together the numbers for the health report, you remember? I have gathered all the files but I won't manage to complete the statistics in time, I am afraid. Sister Julienne has been called to Chichester and won't return before next week, so I am going to cover another night shift for her."

Shelagh looked up to Patrick and he smiled. He loved seeing his wife being enthusiastic about her work, her cheeks reddening and her eyes sparkling with the prospect of being there where she could help another labouring mother or an ill child. He stepped closer to her desk, bent down and kissed her on the cheek. He whispered in her ear: "How are you, love? I like to think my prescription has helped to calm you down a little?"

Shelagh smiled warmly. "Yes, I do feel so much better. The Valium has helped a lot. I lost the feeling of constantly being overstrained. And I do sleep so much better."

Patrick smiled and then he kissed both his children on their hair, took a step back again and said: "Let's get you home. And how about we have fish and chips for dinner? I suppose no one will mind, and you won't have to cook, dear?"

"I have finished all statistics, do you need anything else, Patrick?" Stella asked, leaning against the doorframe of Patrick's office.

"Yes, actually I do," Patrick replied and chuckled when he noticed Stella's face drop.

"What is so funny?" she asked.

"Your face, dear," Patrick replied. "I am sorry, I assume you want to go home and please, feel free to go, I have kept you long enough. But Shelagh packed a few slices of pie and I got two bottles of beer on my way here so we could have dinner. I am in need of a dinner companion. The children will have eaten and be asleep when I get back, and I suppose Caroline will have already eaten, too?"

Stella smiled and watched to clock on the mantelpiece behind Patrick's desk. "Yes, I prepared something to eat for her, though Caroline is smart, she will get along by herself. She was forced to grow up early."

"So was Tim," Patrick replied while he got up from his chair and reached for a picnic basket behind his desk. "Would you mind getting us some plates, cutlery and glasses?"

Stella quickly went to do as Patrick had suggested and when she returned, he had spread a red and white checkered tea towel on his desk and placed the container holding the pie into the middle, two bottles of ale next to it. Patrick had also loosened his tie and rolled up his sleeves, indicating his work day was definitely over.

Stella put down the plates and arranged the food on the plates she had brought while Patrick opened the bottles and poured the liquid into their glasses.

"You never really told me about your Christmas," Patrick said, "did you have a good time with your children?" He immediately regretted having said anything, because Stella's smile waned and her face turned sad.

"Well, it was quiet. It was really only Caroline and me this year. Gerald is still sailing somewhere in the Mediterranean and Thomas spent most of the time with his future in-laws in Norwich. He came by for dinner on Christmas Eve but left early the following morning. They invited him over and who wouldn't want to be with their fiancée for the holidays," she said, her voice meekly. "But we managed," she added in a cheerful voice, not quite covering her sadness. "Caroline and I have been through a lot, we are a good team. And we have a few friends in the neighbourhood who invited us over, too."

Patrick smiled at her affectionately. "I am sorry. I should have realized this was not an easy time for you. Not long until we are probably going to have to miss Timothy during Christmas. I dare not think of how sad his siblings will be once he has left the house."

Stella shook her head and said: "Let's not get sentimental, Patrick, alright? I think the food you brought looks lovely, why don't we tuck in?"

Patrick happily nodded and raised his glass. He looked at Stella with an amused expression and explained: "This is the only time of year I have a bottle after work in my office. As much as I appreciate reading the health report, I absolutely despise having to compile all those statistics."

Stella raised her glass, too and smiled. "Good that you have surrounded yourself with enough capable women helping you then."

Patrick chuckled. "I can't tell you how much I appreciate your support." He sighed. "I am glad Shelagh realized it would have been too much to help me. She is so good with all those statistics but with everything she has on her plate right now it would not have been right to add this."

He paused, looked at Stella with an encouraging smile and said: "To you, Stella, and your invaluable support."

"Thank you, Patrick. And to your kind and generous manner. I could not have a better boss."

Both took a sip from their beer and then began to eat. Both ate in silence until everything was finished. "Judging by the amount you ate you did again skip your lunch break, am I right?" Stella asked while she leant back in her chair, holding her glass from which she sipped occasionally. She had rolled up the sleeves of her blouse and the beer had flushed her cheeks, also adding yet more sparkle to her bright eyes.

Patrick smiled ruefully. "You caught me. I am afraid you know me too well by now, Mrs Gillespie. It's only been, what, six weeks since you started here?"

Stella smiled. "Yes, six weeks yesterday. But I have been married to a man your age, you know."

"How old were you when you got married, if you don't mind me asking?" Patrick asked.

"Oh no, never," Stella quickly replied. "I was 25 when we got married. This was in 1938. We had met four years earlier. When we got married, Martin was 28 and had been waiting for a promotion before the wedding. I had wanted us to get married much earlier. Oh, I was so furious at the time, but in hindsight I benefited from having to working for a few years. After his death I was quickly able to find work as a secretary because of my prior experience."

Patrick smiled a sad smile. "The war was a catastrophe. And it changed to much. I was engaged just before the war, to a nurse. But she broke it off, after she had met someone else, another doctor, at a military hospital. Soon after the war I met Marianne, really the best thing that could have happened then."

Stella looked at him intently. She leant back in her chair and crossed her arms in front of her chest, taking in a deep breath. "Martin never told me about the war. And I never asked him. Thomas was born in 1939, just before Martin went away. He was home for two months after he had suffered a lung injury in 1942, and in 43, Gerald was born. Martin always said he was lucky he came home in one piece. And judging by what my friends tell me about their husbands, he was one piece. I think everyone took home their scars, visible or invisible, - " her voice trailed off and she looked up from her lap into Patrick's eyes.

Patrick remained silent until Stella whispered: "You have yours as well, I assume?"

Patrick nodded slowly. Stella watched him bite his lips and blink a few times. Then she slowly got up and walked around his desk. She went up behind him, bent down, placed her head on his left shoulder and closed her arms around his chest. When she placed a very light kiss on his left cheek, Patrick let out a first very gentle sob.

"You don't have to say anything, Patrick," Stella whispered. "I can see you must have suffered so much. I am here with you now."

Patrick silently sobbed, leaning into Stella's embrace. Stella gently hummed words of affection and comfort into his ear, very gently rocking Patrick back and forth while she pressed her right cheek against his left.

"Martin came back changed and broken. He tried hard to not show it but I would notice every single night. He would cry and shout and talk. So I know, Patrick, I know."

They remained in their position for a long time, until Patrick slowly turned his head. He breathed in deeply and kissed Stella's cheek which was now resting against his face. Stella, too, turned her head and the two began kissing each other very slowly and gently. Patrick slowly rose from his chair, never breaking the kiss. He drew Stella firmly against his body and the two kept kissing for a while until Stella retreated, her face flush and her hair slightly dishevelled. She smiled and leaned her forehead against Patrick's chin. "Oh, Dr Turner, didn't we say we would not do this anymore?"

Patrick smiled and tightened their embrace. "I know," he whispered. "But right now it feels so very good." He breathed in and leaned in for another kiss. "You feel so very good," he murmured.

Stella took her head back just a little bit. "Patrick, before we go on, please let me say one more time that I do not want to come between you and your wife."

Patrick looked at her. "You are so very kind, Stella. You will not, you do not. With you, it is so… different. It feels so natural to talk to you and also to touch you."

Stella leant forward and gave Patrick a quick kiss on his cheek before she shuffled out of his embrace, walked around his desk again and began to clear the plates and glasses.

"I am sorry, Stella, did I do anything to offend you?"

Stella lifted her head to face Patrick. "No, you did not. But it is getting late and we said we would be careful. Come on, give me a hand."

Patrick hurried to her side and collected the items belonging into his basket.

A few minutes later Patrick's desk no longer bore any traces of their shared meal and Patrick and Stella met in the hallway in front of his office. "Your cheeks are all red, "Patrick chuckled and brushed Stella's right cheek with his right hand. "It is adorable what a few sips of beer are doing to you. You look like a twenty-year-old visiting the pub for the first time."

Stella beamed at him. "A few sips and a few kisses, don't forget these, dear" she laughed.

Patrick quickly drew her into another embrace and hugged her tightly. Then he pecked her lips with his own and laughed again. "Just an experiment. To see what happens."

Stella laughed with him. "Always the scientist, aren't you?" she said teasingly and kissed Patrick on the cheek. "Time's up, Dr Turner. I think you are expected at home. Don't let Timothy be babysitter too often. I take it he will be watching the little ones until you are back?"

Patrick nodded. "I am telling you from experience," Stella explained. "When I went back to work the boys had to watch Caroline too often and they didn't always appreciate it. So be careful about putting Timothy to work too much."

"Noted," Patrick chuckled. "So let's get you home so I can relieve my poor son from his task. I do think he quite enjoys these evenings, though. He gets to watch the telly without me or Shelagh checking on him. The little ones are usually tight sleepers so he does not have to do much."

Patrick and Stella put on their coats and walked outside to Patrick's car. Inside they remained silent until they were almost at Stella's house.

"Patrick, thank you very much for dinner, and your company, I had a lovely evening."

"I had a lovely evening, too. Thank you so much for all your support and for being a good friend."

Stella looked at him and for a brief moment Patrick assumed she would lean in to kiss him, but she only brushed his thigh with her hand. He parked the car and with a quiet "Good night," Stella got out and quickly walked towards her house. Patrick noticed a lit window on the first floor which he assumed would be Caroline's room. He waited until Stella had closed the door behind her until he drove off again.

* * *

Back home, Patrick entered a quiet house. He hung his coat on the coat rack, toed off his shoes and walked upstairs to check on his children. As he had anticipated, both Teddy and Angela were sound asleep. He found Timothy in his room, listening to music, reading a book.

"No TV tonight?"

"Dad," Timothy began, furrowing his brow in anger, and Patrick smiled.

"It is alright, son, just teasing."

He wished his eldest good night and considered going downstairs again, watching a bit of TV. But then he decided to go to bed and read for a while. He barely spent an evening all by himself and felt an urge to have a bit of quiet.

When he got to bed, Patrick thought about Stella. He wondered how she must be feeling. He was lucky having met Shelagh. He remembered the months after Marianne's death. It had been so very difficult to sleep alone, to never be able to discuss his work, Timothy, anything with anyone.

Stella had had to raise three children, all by herself. She never once complained, she always wore that compelling smile. Patrick wondered what it all meant. And he wondered how he wasn't even bothered by feelings of guilt. He was married. He loved his wife. His wife loved him. They had three children and what certainly was a happy home. But then he had kissed another woman. And it had felt good and right. No guilt.

Stella felt something for him, just as he felt for Stella. He could not quite name it, but he believed Stella telling him she would never break up his marriage. He also knew Stella's feelings were genuine, and he had to admit it flattered him to be admired and loved by an attractive and lovely women such as Stella. While at the same time being married to an equally attractive and immensely lovely woman like Shelagh.


	7. A busy morning

**A busy morning**

The following Monday morning, Patrick hurried into the surgery. As always, he could be certain Stella was already there, holding the fort, having opened the windows to let in fresh air, having lit the lamps and placed the morning post on his desk.

When Patrick entered the reception area, Stella walked around the corner from the back. Her face lit up with her signature smile when she saw him.

"Stella!" he exclaimed happily.

"Good morning, Patrick," Stella replied while approaching him and extending her hands to take his coat from him. "You look as if you could use a hot cup of tea. I'll bring it to you if you go to your office."

Patrick extended his hand and carefully brushed her cheek with the outside of his fingers. "Exactly what I need this morning. Mornings at home have become so hectic, I can't even remember whether I have already had a cup or not," he sighed.

Stella chuckled and disappeared into the kitchen. When she returned with a steaming cup, Patrick had already sat down at his desk and was looking out for her.

"Please, get yourself a cup, too, and have a seat," he invited her. "We have another fifteen minutes until we open," he added.

"Oh no, Patrick, not now. You need to check the post and I have to man the phone. See, it is already ringing," she said, and disappeared again.

Patrick smiled after her, appreciating her curvy behind through her perfect-fitted dress. He had come to appreciate how different Stella felt from Shelagh, he noticed. Shelagh was very slim, almost tiny in his arms. In their early days of engagement when they had first begun to carefully embrace, he had been afraid of crushing or hurting her. Now he could not imagine not touching and holding her.

But from the first time he had embraced Stella, he appreciated her female form. Stella was quite a bit taller than Shelagh, he did not have to bend down as much. She was also slender, but more curvy around the hips and had larger heavier breasts.

Patrick was shaken out of his thoughts by Stella's voice, asking him to take a call from a doctor at the London regarding one of Patrick's referrals.

All morning, Patrick was busy seeing one patient after another. In between, as she did every day, Stella brought several fresh cups of tea, never leaving his office without ever so slightly brushing his upper arm or hand right after placing the cup on his desk. Showing him her presence and how she cared. Patrick noticed how he felt an ever so light tingling in his belly whenever she approached his desk.

Patrick suddenly became aware of how this, her frequent touching him, had really been what attracted him to her. Her subtle signs of watching out for him, without pressing him or requiring anything of him. Her genuinely caring self, paired with her humour and wit was what he appreciated. Also, he realized, it was what he needed but what he had come to miss in his marriage since the birth of their baby, the constant struggle with childcare and especially with Shelagh having returned to work at Nonnatus House.

"Dr Turner, can I ask you something?" an impatient-sounding voice unpleasantly shook Patrick out of his thoughts. Nurse Crane was standing in the door, her brow furrowed, clearly disapproving of him being distracted by thoughts she would never want to know.

"Yes, Nurse Crane," Patrick said, sitting up straight, indicating for his colleague to sit down on the visitor's chair.

"I am sorry, " Patrick heard Stella's voice before she entered his office, right after Nurse Crane had left. "I was on the phone when she just hurried past my desk and into your office. There was no way stopping her."

"It is alright, Stella, you have nothing to be sorry about. This is Nurse Crane as we know her. She was worried about her patient, Maude Green, but I could assure her I had taken care of everything. I referred Mrs Greene to the London yesterday after Nurse Crane had called me. Maude was in labour but we decided her pelvis was too narrow. Her labour stopped but they are going to operate this afternoon. Nurse Crane wasn't aware it was all under way."

"Oh, the young girl who got married only a few weeks ago, is this Maude?"

Patrick nodded.

"Oh well, I noticed she is hardly older than Caroline, the poor girl. But at least the lad married her then," Mrs Gillespie said, visibly shivering, thinking what might happen to Caroline, Patrick thought.

"What a busy morning we had," Stella said. "I didn't even get to ask you about your weekend. So you were called out to Maude, any other calls?"

"Yes, I was at the O'Leary's. Poor old Sean took another turn for the worse, I assume he won't have long now. Peggy is devastated. Luckily their daughter can spend a few weeks with them as her husband is away on sea and the brought the little ones."

Stella nodded. "I am sorry, these must be so hard."

Patrick shrugged his shoulders. "It is, though with time you learn to cope. You have to, or you can't do this kind of work. And really, getting home to my family is always distracting my mind."

Stella chuckled. "I should think so. I remember when the boys were little. They were so wild and naughty, I never got anything done. I was lucky my neighbour next door was there to help. Her children were a bit older and she would often take one of the boys so I could clean or do the laundry at least once a week."

Patrick cocked his head and looked at Stella who had meanwhile sat down on the visitor's chair. "There was a time when we thought we would not be blessed with another child. And though we would never consider him a burden I think Shelagh is pushed to her limits with two little ones and her work at the moment," he said sadly.

"Oh really? How's that? The baby, I mean?" Stella asked.

"Shelagh had tuberculosis just before we got married. When she did not get pregnant during our first year of marriage, we were told after an examination she could very likely no longer conceive. She was devastated, you can imagine. And so was I. Not so much because of not having a child, but because I could hardly stand watching her being so defeated. It had been all she wanted and it was the one thing I could not give to her."

Stella sighed. "I am sorry. This must have been so very hard on you."

Patrick nodded. "It was. It was the most difficult time for us as a couple. But we came out alright. We adopted Angela. And then we had Teddy, our little miracle. So there is nothing to worry about. Everything went well in the end."

Stella smiled. "This is a lovely story. And I can relate to you so well. After Martin came back from the war, all we wanted was to focus on the future. We wanted to have another baby so badly. I got pregnant almost immediately but then I had a miscarriage when I was six months pregnant. It happened at home, while I was doing the laundry. I will never forget seeing this little human being, just slipped out, it was a real baby, just so very tiny, -" her voice trailed off and Patrick noticed Stella blink back tears.

He slowly got up from his chair, walked up next to her, drew the second visitor's chair to him and sat down close to her. Then he leaned over and took her hands into his. "I am sorry, Stella," he murmured.

Stella shook her head, still trying to hold back her tears. "Oh no, Patrick, this is long gone. Almost twenty years now. It was very difficult back then but we had Caroline not even two years later. Something good that came out of this."

She tried hard to maintain her composure, but Patrick leaned in yet a little closer and embraced her tightly. "You don't have to hold back the pain, Stella," he whispered into her hair. "Every child we are not able to have hurts, and you are allowed to cry over your son or daughter."

Stella broke out into a sob. "It was a little daughter, Patrick," she cried. Patrick kept on holding her until her sobbing ebbed.

Stella carefully withdrew from his embrace and retrieved a handkerchief from her pocket. She wiped her eyes, blew her nose and then smiled again, while her eyes still bore the sad expression of a mother remembering her dead child.

"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you. This was the first time ever since it happened that I could cry over this little girl that was never supposed to live."

Patrick bent over again and kissed her on the cheek. "You are a precious and lovely woman, Stella. You are allowed every kind of emotion. And if you ever feel you need to share something, you are always welcome to do so with me."

Stella smiled again and bit her lips. Then, after a short pause, she said: "I am so sorry, now your lunch break is almost over and I haven't even finished the list for your house calls. I am so sorry."

She wanted to jump up from her chair but Patrick held her back. "Stella, please, don't worry. We'll manage. You take your time in finishing the list and I can take another five minutes to eat my sandwiches. Mrs Penney is watching Teddy this afternoon meaning we'll have a decent meal tonight. Also Shelagh will be home beginning late afternoon, so there is no need for me to hurry."

Stella smiled and wiped her eyes for the last time before putting away her now wet handkerchief. "Thank you Patrick. I am tempted to say what would I do without you, though I am aware that there are quite a few things that I have to do without you."

Patrick looked at her affectionately. He breathed in audibly and let out a sharp breath and said: "You look very adorable right now. I would like to kiss you properly, but I am afraid if I do I will never get to have my lunch nor begin my rounds."

Stella laughed and got up from her chair. "Now eat something, and then I'll see you off. You've got patients waiting, Dr Turner."

Patrick smiled happily while watching Stella's back walk out of his office, remembering how lovely it hat felt to have her warm and soft body pressed so closely against his. It had been so heart-breaking to see her devastated but it made him almost feel proud of himself having been able to comfort her.


	8. Stella is ill

**Stella is ill**

Another two weeks passed during which Patrick and Stella enjoyed working along each other in their newly established routine. Every day, they would take short moments of taking a cup of tea together, one brushing their hands against the other, taking one's coat, adjusting his tie, a fleeting kiss on the cheek here and there.

Until one Thursday morning, Patrick was baffled when he wanted to open the door to the surgery but found it still locked. He dug out his key and let himself in. Just when he entered, he heard the phone ring and went to answer it.

It was Shelagh telling him Stella had called in sick just after he had left. Shelagh offered to cover the morning at the surgery after she had dropped off Angela at daycare and little Teddy at the neighbour's.

Patrick enjoyed working alongside his wife for a change but he also kept worrying about Stella. When Shelagh delivered the list for his house calls, he said. "I am going to stop by Mrs Gillespie, just to make certain she is alright. I know she told you it was just a cold but knowing her she will not let on too much. I feel I owe it to her."

Shelagh smiled. "You are such a kind man, Patrick. I am certain she could use a little check up. I am going to call Nonnatus House and see whether someone can cover afternoon surgery at the desk, I have to fetch the children by then."

"Thank you, dear," Patrick said, while he got up from his desk, approached his wife, took her hands into both of his and kissed them carefully. Shelagh smiled at his signature gesture for his love. "You don't look all to well yourself, if you don't mind me saying," Patrick said, his voice coloured by worry.

"I am alright, Patrick," Shelagh said in her usual firm voice. "I am just tired, although the Valium is helping me a lot. I feel a lot calmer, since I increased the dose from your recommendation."

"Increased the dose?" Patrick asked worriedly. "Why, you never told me?"

"It is just one more pill in the afternoon. And ever since I feel that when I am not too tired, I am almost back to my old self."

Patrick opened his mouth to reply but decided otherwise. There was no need to argue with his wife when she was using a tone that definite. He would have to wait for another occasion to voice his concerns.

He absentmindedly kissed his wife goodbye and walked out of his office, took his coat and bag and went to his afternoon rounds. Before the first call on the list, he stopped at Stella's house. He thought that he would never visit her at home while she was staying there alone, he would never dare compromise her reputation. But now, she was ill and he was her GP. Technically, he wasn't as she was not registered with him. But people knew him as a doctor and would know why he was here now.

Patrick rang the doorbell several times. Just when he considered leaving again, he heard footsteps from inside and Stella opened the door. She was wearing a yellow dressing gown. Patrick normally didn't show any reactions at the sight of his patients but now, seeing a very pale Stella, eyes glassy and red-rimmed, her body shivering with fever, he gasped.

"Stella, to bed with you right now," he exclaimed while he entered Stella's house.

"I am alright, Patrick," she said, her voice meek, almost a whisper. "I am alright. I was in bed. I had to open the door because someone rang the doorbell."

"Now, no nit picking, Mrs Gillespie," Patrick replied. "I am here to check on you before my rounds and I was right in assuming you were ill with more than just a cold."

Stella nodded while she slowly walked into the living room and sank down on her settee.

"I am sorry, I feel a little dizzy. I feel safer sitting down," she explained.

"Stella, please. I am going to find you a few blankets and I want you to stay here and take a rest. When is Caroline due home?"

"She'll come in late tonight. You should know, it is Thursday. orchestra practice."

Patrick smiled. "Even when you're ill you can't hold back chastising me."

Stella gave him a tired smile. "And now you should go on your rounds. You are going to be late for afternoon surgery if you don't hurry up." Patrick looked around and retrieved a blanket from an armchair next to the settee. He tightly tucked it around Stella. When he was done, he carefully adjusted her hair, in the process checking her temperature with his hand.

Then he sat on the side of the settee, carefully stroking Stella's cheek and said: "Don't worry about me for a change. Take a rest and let Caroline do anything that needs to be done around the house. Promise me."

Stella who was already dozing off, nodded barely visible.

Patrick gave her one last loving look, quietly got up and left for his rounds.

A few hours later, Patrick pulled up in front of Stella's house again. It was dark by now, and a cold breeze blew through the streets. Patrick noticed light in a few rooms downstairs and wondered whether orchestra practice might have been cancelled and Caroline was home already. This time Stella opened the door after he had only rung once.

"Stella," Patrick exclaimed. "What are you doing? Are you cooking? I told you to take a rest!"

"Please come in, Patrick," Stella said sharply.

Patrick entered and put down his bag in the hallway. "Stella, I am sorry," he said and extended his hand to gently brush her cheek. "I am concerned. And you should not take chances with a fever this high."

"I know," Stella said hoarsely, "but Caroline needs to eat. And I do too, by the way."

Patrick looked at her adoringly. "Of course. How could I not think of it," he said. "Come on." And went into the kitchen where Stella had been chopping vegetables in order to prepare a stew."

There, he shrugged off first his coat, then his suit jacket, rolled up his shirt sleeves and stuffed a tea towel into the waistband of his trousers in lack of an apron.

"What's all this?" Stella who had come up behind him asked.

"I am going to finish what you started," Patrick explained. "You can talk me through because I do not know what I am supposed to be doing here, but you are going to sit down and cover yourself with a blanket. Should I get it from the living room?"

Stella smiled and nodded. "Yes, there is quite a large knitted blanket which you could bring. A blue and red one. My mother made it for me when I first left home. I left it on the settee."

Patrick returned with said item and affectionately wrapped Stella's body into the blanket, thereby enclosing her with his arms into a tight embrace from behind. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, kissed her cheek and whispered: "You must feel so very poorly, dear. You are burning up."

Stella turned her head so she could look him in the eye. "I am burning up, yes. And I feel pretty ill. Thank you for looking after me."

Patrick smiled and gave her another quick peck on the cheek. "Now to work. But first, I am going to make you a fresh cup of tea. Where do you keep the leaves?"

When the tea was ready, Patrick began with cooking dinner, having Stella closely watch from her place at the table. It took him half an hour to cut all ingredients to Stella's satisfaction and prepare the simple stew according to her instructions. When the dish was finally simmering on the stove, Patrick removed his tea towel apron, washed his hands at the sink and approached Stella who rested her head in her left hand, with the elbow propped up on the kitchen table.

"Stella, now that we are ready, you will go to bed. I am going to take you upstairs and I will stay with you until you are asleep." When she wanted to protest, Patrick firmly said: "Doctor's orders." Patrick stood next to her when she got up and held her when she threatened to topple over; he had expected her to feel dizzy, since her glassy eyes were showing him that her fever was again on the rise.

Patrick put an arm around Stella's waist to support her and slowly walked her upstairs into her bedroom. He felt awkward to enter this room with her. He had occasionally fantasized what her bedroom might look like and how it would feel to go there with her - not while she was ill, though. And not that he would ever dare doing so. He was a married man and he knew he would never break his vows. What he and Stella had he considered a particularly close form of friendship, nothing more. And there were certain boundaries he might occasionally dream of crossing but he knew he would never do so in real life.

He noticed how there were two blankets and two pillows in the bed. He, too, had always had Marianne's bed made, even months after her death, as if he was expecting her back any day. He could not stand sleeping next to an empty bed and having some bedding ready had been comfort. The least bit of comfort, but comfort.

"You have a good night's sleep now," he said gently while carefully sitting her down on her bed, covering her with her blankets after she had laid down on her back. Patrick had made sure to take the knitted blanket with them and Stella gave him a weary smile and he watched as her eyes fluttered.

"Thank you, Patrick," she whispered. "You are so kind and lovely."

Patrick smiled. "Anything for you, love. Let me get you some more water," he said, took the empty glass placed on her nightstand and went to the bathroom to refill it. "Make sure you drink enough water. Have Caroline bring you breakfast tomorrow," he said.

Stella smiled, her eyes half closed. "I will, Patrick. I am going to do as my doctor says," she said in a slurring voice.

Patrick chuckled and sat down on the bed next to her. He took Stella's right hand into his left, feeling how hot and dry hers was, and carefully stroked it with his other hand. "I am going to stay with you until you have fallen asleep," he whispered. Stella closed her eyes and nodded barely visible. Patrick listened how her breath became deeper and more regular. Soon, she was sound asleep and he watched her affectionately one last time.

He brushed her forehead with his lips before getting up and walking downstairs. Just when he was about to put on his coat, he heard the front door. A girl the age of Timothy entered.

"Oh, what… Dr Turner?" the girl asked, her voice changing from frightened to calm in the course of one sentence.

Patrick chuckled: "Yes, this is me. I am sorry if I frightened you for a second."

Caroline smiled and Patrick was stunned how much she looked like her mother now. "Did you check after my mum? She was ill this morning and did not go to work. But she said she didn't need a doctor."

"Yes, I did. I thought I owed it to her, since she is such an invaluable support to me all the time. I made sure she went to bed; I think she should be asleep now."

"Is it something bad?" Caroline asked, now worried. Patrick recognized the look in her face. Here was a girl who had already lost one parent, terrified she might lose the other, too.

"No, nothing too serious," he calmed her. "It is the flu but your mother is strong. She does have a high fever, though, and she is likely going to feel weak for the next week. If possible, make sure she is going to rest as much as she can. Tell her not to do anything around the house. I think you are old enough to manage for a while."

Caroline nodded.

Patrick smiled at her. "How was orchestra practice? Timothy never tells me much these days."

Caroline laughed. "Timothy not talking much? Really? I think we are not talking about the same Timothy then. Well, it was good, we have really improved, I think and we were invited to play at the Easter concert at All Saints church."

"Oh really? Well, I'll try and see whether Timothy remembers to tell us," Patrick chuckled while he grabbed his bag from the floor of the hallway and moved towards the door.

"Your mum prepared your dinner. Please see to her having something to drink by her side all times and also see to her breakfast tomorrow. She is not supposed to get up as long as she has a fever."

Caroline nodded. "Understood. I will make sure she won't leave her bed, Doctor."

Patrick nodded Caroline goodbye and went to his car, and drove home.

* * *

It was ten days later before Stella came to work again. Just as every day before her illness, she sat at her desk, arranging Patrick's schedule for the day when he entered his surgery that Monday. He had been checking on her for the next two days following his first visit, only after her fever had come down he had stopped. He had no longer been able to justify his visits for medical reasons.

"Stella," he exclaimed. "I didn't expect you to be here so soon. You still need to rest."

Stella smiled. "Good morning, Patrick. I am fine. Really. I have been staying home for ten days and I was bored at home all weekend. Caroline cleaned the house and then was out most of the time and I just could no longer sit down on my settee all my myself. So I am staying here no matter what you say."

She got up while she was talking to Patrick and took his coat from him while he watched her move.

"You still look a bit pale. And you lost a bit of weight, too. You need to eat properly," Patrick said, approaching her and holding her by her upper arms while looking into her face with affection. "I have missed you," he murmured. "I am glad you are back."

Stella smiled and stroked his left cheek with her right hand. "I have missed you to. Thank you for taking good care of me. You know, Caroline told me that when she told Timothy about you having prepared dinner during your home visit, he said "yes, this is what my dad would do."

Patrick chuckled. "He knows me well, my boy."

"Now," Stella said, "you have work to do, Dr Turner. I have already finished this morning's appointments. If you want to have a cup of tea before we are going to open in just a few minutes, you go on through into your office and I am going to bring it to you. "

Patrick smiled at her and brushed her cheek with his lips. "Thank you," he whispered into her ear before hurrying off towards his office.

Stella brought him his tea but made sure she only put down the cup and immediately left again. They would leave catching up for later.

After another busy morning, Patrick's lunch break began at 1:30, only half an hour before he had to leave for afternoon rounds. Just when he had seen off his last patient, Patrick approached Stella's desk and said: "Can I see you in my office for a short moment, Mrs Gillespie?"

"Of course, Doctor," Stella replied and almost jumped up. Half way towards Patrick's office, she turned around again and locked the door to the surgery. Lunch break was lunch break.

Then she walked into his office where Patrick, was already waiting for her, arms wide open. He tightly embraced her and the two remained silent for a long moment. Patrick buried his nose in Stella's hair and eventually whispered: "I am glad you are back. I have missed you so much, Stella."

Stella smiled and loosened the embrace. "Stop flattering me all the time, Dr Turner."

Patrick looked at her, his head cocked. "Why? You deserve being flattered."

Stella laughed out loud. "So do you, Patrick. You coming to look after me was so lovely. I felt so poorly that night and it was such a relief to know you were looking out for me. Caroline was lovely, too, but to have you there that evening did help me a lot."

Both stood still and looked into each other's eyes for a while until Stella slowly bent forward and began kissing Patrick. He responded immediately and they carried on for a while until Stella ended the kiss and whispered: "I am sorry. I know we said we would not do this, but I needed to. I needed to thank you this way."

Patrick smiled, then bent forward and placed a quick kiss on Stella's lips. "Yes, we said we would not do this," he murmured and kissed her again.

Stella kissed him back but eventually both stopped and parted. "Patrick!" Stella exclaimed. "It is almost two o'clock. You need to eat before you head out."

Patrick chuckled and affectionately stroked Stella's cheek. "You are so lovely when you are concerned about me," he said. "Don't worry about my lunch, I can eat it in the car." When Stella wanted to retort, he stilled her by raising one hand. "Stella, it won't hurt if I eat my sandwiches on my way just for one day. I have had worse, much worse."

Stella raised her eyebrows disapprovingly. "Well, if you say so," she grumbled, but smiled. "So how is everyone? How are the children?"

"They are doing fine. Timothy did very well in his maths exam, Angela has again outgrown all her clothes and Teddy has taken an interest in all of Shelagh's cupboards, much to Shelagh's dismay. He won't stop taking everything out."

Stella chuckled. "I remember this time with my three. It is so exciting but you always need to look out for them. It can be very tiring."

"Oh yes," Patrick replied. "And it is so different with all of them. Angela was much calmer but Teddy is really all around the place. He keeps running off all the time when he is outside."

Stella laughed. "As curious as his father, he is, right?"

Patrick chuckled. "This is what Shelagh keeps saying. She says she used to be a very shy and quiet child and Teddy's wild streak must come from my side."

"I think he definitely turns after you. In character and in his very handsome appearance," Stella said appreciatively.

"I gladly return the compliment," Patrick replied. "Caroline is a very beautiful girl. She definitely takes after her mother."

Stella smiled proudly. "Yes, I am proud. I am proud of all three of them, but I am especially proud of Caroline. She was hit hardest by Martin's death. She had to spend so much time with her brothers and our neighbour when I had to go back to work. And she turned out so very smart and brave."

"She looks just like you. I can now picture you as a girl her age. A very pleasing thought."

Stella smiled. "I assume you must have looked a lot like Timothy?"

Patrick nodded. "Yes, I did. Tim's and my childhood pictures do show quite a lot of similarities. He has a bit of Marianne in his face, but he takes mostly after me. And we are alike in so many other traits." Patrick's voice trailed off while he took a look at his watch. "Well, one thing he has an advantage on me is punctuality. I better hurry."

Stella nodded. "Oh yes, out, Doctor. Let me give you the list for your calls," she said and hurried to retrieve the list from her desk.


	9. It's time to have a talk

**It's time to have a talk**

It was just going on 9.30 at night when Patrick returned home after having been called out to a little girl with a high fever. He noticed with surprise to find his house dark upon his return. Patrick had expected Shelagh to be waiting for him. Since she had taken up midwifery with Nonnatus House, nights like this occasionally reminded him of the time after Marianne's death. Back then he had loathed returning home to a dark and quiet flat. Even though he knew that tonight, his second wife would be sleeping next to him, he still felt neglected and lonely.

Patrick missed their evenings together after the children were asleep. They would have one last cup of tea or Nescafé, go through the evening post or just tell each other about their day, their work, some anecdotes about children or patients. Sometimes, the would just sit next to each other on the settee, holding hands, leaning in to each other, calming down after a long and exhausting day. Very rarely, they would still put on a record and dance, though this only happened once every few months, usually, at least one of them was too tired or simply not in the mood.

When had been their last quiet evening together, Patrick wondered. Nowadays, Shelagh was either out at work or already in bed because she was tired. At first, he had thought her tiredness came from working and being all over the place with the household and children, but recently he had noticed that she had doubled her dose of Valium. Tiredness was one of the side-effects. She said she needed the medication to take her through her days, make her relax, since she was hardly able to take a break in between work, picking up Angela, and doing what had to be done around the house.

Luckily, they had at least been able to find a new housekeeper. Susan Ward was the daughter of a distant cousin of trusted Mrs Penney and came in every morning to watch Teddy and see to the household. Shelagh would bring Angela to day-care and continue to Nonnatus House. On the days she had been on night shift, Shelagh would return for breakfast with her family, then take Angela to day-care and return home to take a rest until Susan left in the early afternoon.

While Shelagh was at work, Susan would occasionally stay on to watch Teddy. Sometimes, their neighbour, Maureen, would take the boy until either Patrick or Shelagh came home from work. And occasionally, even Timothy had to pick up his brother. Shelagh and Patrick had agreed that they would find other ways, but for the time being would just generously top up Timothy's allowance every time he was looking after his brother.

Patrick had hung his coat and now stood in the darkness of the kitchen for a while. He tried to focus. His intention had been to prepare himself a Nescafé but then he decided otherwise. Preparing a hot beverage would take too long. A glass of water had to do.

He sighed. He needed to talk to Shelagh, he resolved. As happy as he was for her to have returned to midwifery, this was not how they had once imagined their life as husband and wife. Even when she had told him she would happily stay at home with their growing family in the weeks before their wedding, he had always expected her to eventually return to work. And he would not have wanted it otherwise, as he admired her midwifery skills and hardly could think of anyone more fit to work with Nonnatus House.

But he realized that there were limits set by the kind of life they lived. He had hoped that once the Valium had calmed Shelagh's nerves, she would have come to realize that the situation as it presented itself was not one that should and could go on unaltered. Now he realized that it had led to the contrary, to her even increasing the burden on her because the Valium clouded her judgement and constantly made her take on more than she was able to handle.

After having emptied the second glass of water, Patrick slowly walked upstairs and got ready for bed.

"Shelagh, are you still awake?" he whispered while sliding under his sheets. But she did not reply, so Patrick just listened to her deep and regular breathing for a while.

Just when he had fallen asleep, Patrick was woken up again by Teddy crying. He groaned. Must be the poor boy's teeth again bothering him, he thought. Patrick waited for Shelagh to wake up but she did not move. He carefully reached out for her and tried to shake her awake but did not succeed. Ever since she was taking these pills her sleep at night was tight as never before.

Patrick grumbled a few angry words and got up. He didn't mind being woken up, it had been his life for longer than he was able to remember. Only Teddy would not settle easily at night when his father was the one taking care of him. It would take Patrick likely half an hour or longer to carry his son around in the darkened room until he would go back to sleep. Shelagh usually managed to get their boy back to sleep within five minutes.

Patrick hurried over to the room their two younger children shared, anxious Teddy's cries might have woken up Angela. Luckily, the little girl was still sleeping tightly. He lifted Teddy out of his bed and slightly winced when he felt a pain in his back. Judging by his weight, Teddy certainly was no longer a baby. They boy would be one and a half years old soon.

The next morning, everyone was in a hurry as always. Luckily, Shelagh had the morning off and could take her time with the children. When Patrick had finished his tea and toast, he got up from the table. "I have to go. I need to go over a few treatment plans before today's surgery." He fidgeted nervously with his fingers, knowing it was neither the time nor place to bring up the issue he had been anxious to discuss with his wife for the past few weeks.

"Shelagh, before you go into work this afternoon, would you be able to come by the surgery? Perhaps have lunch together? There are a few things I need to discuss with you, and it seems we never get to spend an evening together all alone these days," he said, trying to sound cheerful.

Shelagh looked at him in surprise: "Anything the matter, Patrick? What is it you need to discuss so urgently?"

"Well, it is just that I feel we haven't had any time by ourselves in a while and I would like to have a few words with you in private," Patrick said, trying to sound as casual as he could.

Shelagh smiled a puzzled smile at him while getting up from the table and beginning to clear up. He approached her, kissed her good bye on the cheek and said: "Well then, I am going to see you later today, then."

Then he kissed both of his younger children on their heads and nodded towards Timothy who came jumping down the last steps of the stairs, grabbed his packed lunch which Shelagh had placed on the table just seconds earlier, and ran out of the kitchen.

"Wonder what he has been up to last night?" Patrick asked.

Shelagh smiled. "I noticed him taking a few books out of his bag that didn't look like school books. I knew better than to ask him, though."

Patrick frowned, shrugged his shoulders and said: "As long as it doesn't interfere with his performance at school, he will be alright."

"You are running late, Patrick," Shelagh said and Patrick sighed. Was it perhaps him getting older that these things seemed to stress him more and more? Or was it really that the whole situation with both of them working all the time was taking its toll on everyone?

A few hours later, Shelagh walked into the surgery, much to Stella's surprise. "Mrs Turner, I wasn't expecting you. Please go through, your husband just started his lunch break."

Shelagh smiled at the receptionist. "Thank you, Mrs. Gillespie. I hear you are doing very well? My husband is full of praise for you. I am glad you are such a valuable addition to our place. I have been working for quite some time with my husband so I know he is not always the easiest to put up with," she chuckled.

"Oh no, we do get along very well, Dr Turner and me," Stella replied, also chuckling. "I have been working with men much worse than him, also, I have been married to a man of his generation," she laughed.

Shelagh nodded at Stella and proceeded towards her husband's office.

Patrick's face lit up when she entered and he jumped up from his chair. "Shelagh, love, come in. I have been waiting for you."

Shelagh smiled: "This is lovely of you. Although I am a bit worried about what you might possibly want to discuss with me that you could not do this morning in our kitchen?"

Patrick smiled wearily. "Yes, I need to talk about a few things with just you, without any of the children present." He paused and took in his breath. "I wanted to talk about you. About us."

Shelagh's expression changed to a mixture of surprise and concern. "About us? Why, is there anything wrong, Patrick?"

"Yes and no, really, Shelagh."

"Patrick?" Shelagh asked alarmed. "What is it?"

"Well, first of all, I know you know but for the past weeks I never had an opportunity to talk to you in private. You know February 21st is coming up soon, not even a week away?"

"Why, Patrick, yes, of course I know." Shelagh smiled warmly. "Did you think I have forgotten our anniversary?"

Patrick chuckled. "No I didn't, really. But with you so very busy all the time, I wondered..."

Shelagh raised her eyebrows in anticipation.

"I wondered whether you would allow me to take you out to dinner for our fifth anniversary. Just the two of us."

Shelagh smiled. "Oh, what a lovely idea. Yes, of course I will," she said warmly and reached for her husband's left hand, raised it to her mouth and placed a light kiss on his wedding band. "I think we deserve a little time by ourselves. I think I have been neglecting you quite a bit over the past months," she added ruefully.

Patrick took his wife's hands into his before he proceeded: "There is something else I wanted to talk about with you. There is nothing wrong, it is … well, it may go wrong if we do not do anything about it." He paused and ran his hands through his hair, then took Shelagh's left hand into both of his and began stroking her wedding band with his left thumb.

"What is going wrong is that we never seem to have a minute to ourselves anymore," he began tentatively. "Since you have returned to work with Nonnatus House – and don't get me wrong, I am not telling you to stop – but since you have begun to work for them, we hardly ever see each other. You work shifts, I have my on call times, and when we are home you are either busy with the children or tired or asleep. Which I understand, but I am afraid that you are doing too much."

"So you are saying I should stop working?" Shelagh said

"No, I am not, I would never want you to. I know how much it means to you. But I am afraid of you running yourself into the ground."

"The medication you gave me is working fine. I am getting better. I am adjusting. You don't have to worry about me."

"But I do worry. And I don't think the Valium is going to help in the long term. I wanted you to calm down, to become yourself again. You being so tired all the time is a cumulative effect of you working so hard, taking care of the children and of the Valium. And I am worried because I feel that I hardly get to see my wife anymore." He paused and drew together his eyebrows. "Shelagh, just last night, you were sleeping so tightly that you didn't even hear Teddy cry. It took me almost an hour settling him. Not that I mind doing it occasionally, but I think it is your responsibility, too, to be able to be alert if something is wrong with any of the children at night."

Shelagh smiled a sad smile and cocked her head. She looked at her husband affectionately and cupped his hands with hers.

"Patrick, please. There is no reason to be worried about me. Don't you keep telling me that we'll manage as we always do? We will manage this time, too. We have adjusted and I am doing what I want to. Yes, it is hard to be back at work. And yes, on some days it is even harder to come home and have to take care of everything there after work, but it is what I want and what we agreed we would do. Last night, I was just tired. I was at a very tiring birth all day, and no one was there to take over in time as everyone else was out. You know we do have extraordinarily tiring days from time to time?"

Patrick closed his eyes for a moment before he began to speak: "Of course I know. But I am getting more and more worried seeing you becoming entangled within all your different tasks, never able to take a rest, how can I not say anything about this? And you telling me you needed to increase the dose of Valium so you can manage? How can this not be of concern to me?" His voice was calm but tense with worry.

Shelagh blinked, and Patrick knew that she was about to begin to cry. Just then, a first tear rolled down her left cheek, followed by a second one, on the right.

"Oh, Shelagh, love, come here," Patrick said assertively, leaned forward and cupped his wife's cheeks with his hands. "Please, don't cry, Shelagh. I didn't mean to hurt you. I am concerned, and I am afraid, this is why I brought all this up in the first place. Believe me, I never want to hurt you."

Shelagh took in a deep breath and suppressed a sob. Then she spoke in a teary voice: "I know you do not want to hurt me by intention, but what you just said, it did hurt. You think I won't manage when I think I do."

Patrick breathed in and shook his head. He furrowed his brow and tired to think of something encouraging to say while knowing at the same time that anything he was going to say would not do to ease the tension that had built between them.

Instead he drew Shelagh into an embrace, made a little awkward due to them still sitting on their chairs, and he noticed with relief that she leant into his embrace. She would not talk to him right now but she felt safe with his touch.

They remained in their position for a few moments until Shelagh bent backwards, wiping her face and saying: "Patrick, you should leave. You are going to be late for your rounds. I am on night shift tonight so you need to be home in time to put Angela and Teddy to bed."

Patrick suppressed a sigh. He didn't want to make his wife sad again. But this was not how they had imagined their life. Always being in a hurry and having to see to the children being put to bed. He loved his children, this was not the question, but he found it utterly distressing to be responsible for their bedtime, knowing he had to be home in time or else, he would have to ease the situation with Timothy again.

Shelagh slowly got up from her chair and got her coat from where Patrick had placed it. Patrick, too, got up and helped his wife into her coat, finishing his task with placing a quick kiss on her cheek. She turned around and smiled a sad smile at him. "We will manage, Patrick won't we?" she asked. Patrick smiled a half-smile and nodded. This time, he wasn't so sure.

He watched as Shelagh took her bag and left his office. She would go home and take a rest while Teddy was with the neighbour and before she had to pick up Angela and prepare dinner.

At least she had been happy about his dinner invitation. The Turners had never made a special day out of their wedding anniversary, they always had been so busy. During their first anniversary, Angela had still been so little that Shelagh had not wanted to leave her with a sitter. This had carried on through the years.

Only their third anniversary had been special. They had been celebrating their last night in South Africa, enjoying being without their children for the last time. Shelagh had had a glass of wine, something she hardly ever had, and they had spent a very lovely night together. Patrick smiled when he remembered the warm and humid air, heavy with all the sweet scents of the tropical plants the names of which he had never bothered to ask.

It was probably too much to hope for another night like this, not with their present state of being overwhelmed by work and family but if they would just have two hours by themselves, dinner just the two of them, this would be more than they had had in months. And hopefully Shelagh would realize they needed more time like this again.

* * *

Patrick heard a light clearing of a throat and winced when he noticed Stella in the doorframe. "Stella, come in, please. You should have gone home by now," he said in a surprised tone.

Stella slowly entered his office and held out a piece of paper. "Here is your calls list. And no, I never leave before I haven't finished my work."

Patrick smiled a crooked smile and lightly brushed Stella's right cheek. "Stella, you are a gem. I would be lost without you."

Stella looked into his eyes and nodded in understanding. "You were having an argument, you two?" she asked carefully. "I noticed from the way your wife walked out, she almost ran, and she also looked as if she had cried."

Patrick nodded and bit his lips.

Stella sighed. She carefully put her arms around Patrick's waist and rested her left cheek against his chest. "I am sorry. You don't deserve this. But I am sure you two will resolve your argument eventually."

Patrick had closed his arms around Stella while she had spoken and hummed in agreement. Yes, Shelagh and he would resolve everything, they always had and they would again. But right now all he needed was Stella's support. To feel her presence, warm and soft, there for him, not going anywhere, no danger of anyone taking her attention away just now.

Stella hummed, too, in contentment, and murmured: "I think you need to leave, Dr Turner, or else you are going to run late."

Patrick groaned. "Do I have to? He asked playfully. "I'd rather stay here with you, see no one, hear no one, take a break for once."

Stella took a step back and held Patrick by his upper arms. "Now, now, Dr Turner, this is not you speaking. You could never do this. You care too much about your patients. As compelling as the idea is, to spend a bit of time, I am going to push you out of this office myself if I have to."

Patrick laughed. "Oh Stella, I do love you. You are certainly a ray of sunshine on this very bleak day." He leaned in to kiss her but Stella jumped back. "Patrick, I am warning you," she said, mockingly scolding him and moved backwards until her back was pressed to the doorframe. From the distance she watched Patrick gather his things and look over his list of calls.

Then he nodded while putting the list into his medical bag before closing it and walking towards the hallway. When he passed Stella he playfully touched her hip but Stella took a step to the side. "Out with you, hurry up," she shouted and followed him into the hallway.


	10. Fifth anniversary

**Fifth anniversary**

"Now here comes my beautiful wife," Patrick beamed when Shelagh finally came walking down the stairs into their kitchen. He jumped up from his chair at the dining table where he had been sitting and waiting for her.

Shelagh beamed back at him and, when they met at the foot of the stairs, placed her hands on her husband's shoulders. "You look rather handsome, too, Dr Turner. So, our little girl is asleep now. I hope she won't have too hard a night, the poor wee thing."

Patrick raised his eyebrows. "I cancelled our reservation. I am so sorry, I have been looking forward all week to taking you out tonight."

Shelagh cocked her head. "So was I, Patrick. But this is it with the children, one always has something going on."

Angela had not been her usual self all week. She had been crying every day when Shelagh had left her nursery, had not slept well at night and just this afternoon when she had picked her up at day-care, the girl's teacher had told Shelagh that Angela had been hitting and pinching other children for the past days.

Shelagh was very concerned and had talked with Patrick while they had dressed up for dinner. Susan had offered to watch the children beginning late afternoon so the Turners would be able to get ready for their night out in time.

Unfortunately, while Shelagh and Patrick had discussed Angela, the little girl had developed a sudden high fever and Susan had not been able to calm her. Shelagh had then had to tend to her daughter for over an hour and in between she and Patrick decided they better cancel their plans and stay in.

Now, back in their kitchen, husband and wife joined each other in a long embrace. "I think it is a bit much on all of us," Shelagh eventually murmured into her husband's chest.

"Please don't torture yourself, dear," Patrick said gently, his cheek resting on his wife's head.

"I think her odd behaviour all week might be explained by a bug she has caught. Poor wee girl, she must have been ill all week."

Patrick hummed in agreement, though he felt tempted to say something more. He was not so certain that a looming infection was the cause of Angela being out of sorts. But he didn't want to spoil the evening, not when they were here, just the two of them, dressed for a night at an upscale restaurant.

Instead he asked: "Since we have already donned our Sunday best, how about we enjoy a bit of quiet just the two of us? Have a few sandwiches and eggs for dinner? A drink afterwards?"

Shelagh nodded and huffed, from the sound of her breath Patrick could tell she was smiling. After a short while, they loosened their embrace and quickly prepared an improvised dinner with some leftovers, sandwich toast and scrambled eggs.

Once they had finished their meal, Patrick got up and cleared the table. When Shelagh wanted to help him, he smiled and shook his head. "Go, make yourself comfortable, I'll be joining you in a minute, dear", he said, nodding into the direction of the living room.

After he was done, Patrick took two tumblers out of a cupboard and placed them on the worktop, then stretched a bit to retrieve a bottle of whisky from the top shelf of another cupboard. The one he took out was almost full. Patrick tried to remember when he last had a wee dram but couldn't. Neither of them really was much of a drinker.

Next, he walked over to his wife who had already made herself comfortable, had her legs drawn under her body and was leaning back into the backrest. When she nodded in approval, Patrick placed the bottle and glasses on the coffee table, sat down next to his wife and poured each one a glass. He loosened his tie, took off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves.

Then he reached for the glasses, gave one to Shelagh and said: "To us. To five years of love and happiness. And to my beautiful wife. I think you are getting more beautiful by the day, love."

Shelagh smiled warmly, her cheeks beginning to flush. "To you, my dear husband. Thank you for being there for me whenever I need you."

They clinked their glasses and each took a sip of the golden liquid. Shelagh took in a sharp breath. "Oh, it has been years since I last had a glass of this."

Patrick smirked. "Has it really? Yes, we must be the family in Poplar where the least amount of alcohol is consumed."

He watched his wife intently while she was looking at her drink, seemingly lost in thought. Just when he wanted to speak, Shelagh looked up at him and said: "I can't believe it is five years, Patrick. It seems like yesterday that you and Tim were standing at the altar, waiting for me."

Patrick smiled and reached out for his wife's cheek. "Yes, me, too, I can't believe we have been married that long. And I don't regret a second."

Shelagh placed her drink on the coffee table and shuffled closer to her husband. Patrick, too, got rid of his drink and put his left arm around his wife's shoulders. Shelagh leaned in to his embrace, resting her head in the crook of his neck. The couple stayed like this for a long moment, until Shelagh let out a long sigh.

"What is it, love?" Patrick asked, concerned.

"When we got married, I thought we would have a family and that would be it. I never gave a single thought at returning to work. And now so much has come out different than I expected."

"And is this a bad thing?" Patrick asked.

"No, we have talked about this before. I think I need both. I couldn't not do my work as a nurse and midwife. And now that I have gone back to working with Nonnatus House, I feel that it is too much. But I do not know how to take a step or two back again, and I just can't." Shelagh paused, sat up straight again and looked into Patrick's eyes. "Do you understand how hard it is for me yet how difficult to see what is right for all of us?"

Patrick nodded. "I always knew you would return to work one day. Please never think I will not encourage you to."

Shelagh bit her lips for a while and said: "But?"

Patrick breathed in deeply before he spoke:" Shelagh, I am afraid you are ruining your health and that the whole situation is beginning to take its toll on the children, too. You taking the Valium has me concerned. I noticed you are now on three to four pills a day judging by the fact that you needed another prescription just yesterday. And now Angela hurting other children, crying at day-care, developing a fever just when we are about to leave for the night? Shelagh, I think she is missing you. I think our situation at home is beginning to have a negative impact on our children and I am concerned."

Shelagh shuffled to the left just a few inches, but enough to increase the distance between herself and her husband. "So you do want me to stop working?" she asked, her voice forceful and shaking at the same time.

Patrick shook his head in despair. "No, Shelagh, no. This is not what I want and not what I said. But we might consider whether the exact kind of work or its sheer amount is right for now. Perhaps it is possible for you to reduce your hours? I could talk to Sister Julienne if you want me to?"

Now it was Shelagh shaking her head. "No, Patrick, no. This would mean the others would have to cover for me all the time? No. Then I would have to stop completely. And now that I am back to nursing, I can't very well imagine going back being only your receptionist again."

Patrick ran his hands through his hair and rested his chin on the palm of his left hand. "But don't you at least agree that we are facing a problem here? You needing medication because you are working so much? Angela no longer being her usual self?"

Shelagh bit her lips. She blinked a few times in quick succession, trying to hold back tears but failed. She sobbed quietly and sat completely still. Patrick took her left hand into both of his and shuffled nearer to her, leaving only one inch between them.

"Love, I am sorry. Now I made you cry again. I did not mean to reproach you or make you feel guilty. I am worried. And I am afraid. I told you before that I have been through a mental breakdown myself and these things do not happen out of the blue. They build up and sometimes for a long time. I am afraid that you are taking on too much until one day you will no longer manage and I am dreading this day. Because I know that I can't manage without you."

Shelagh let her head drop on her husband's shoulder again. "Please don't let us discuss this right now. We were supposed to have our special night out and now look how we ended up," she sobbed, wiping her face with both palms.

Patrick placed a kiss on her hair. "If we keep talking like tonight we will manage, Shelagh. Even if it hurts, but please, please, Shelagh, let us keep talking, will we?"

Shelagh nodded and snuggled closer into her husband's embrace. "I am sorry that I am no longer there for you as much as I should. I know you need someone to look out for you and I can not always be there," she murmured meekly. "At least you have a good receptionist with Mrs Gillespie. She is watching out for you, too, from what I can see."

"What do you mean?" Patrick asked.

"She is taking care of you. People are telling me how punctual you are and how you always have all the right files with you. They notice that there was a time in between me and her where you were a bit, well, disorganized, apparently."

"No, I was not," Patrick mock-protested. "But yes, you are right, Stella, Mrs Gillespie, she is an extraordinary help.

"Stella?" Shelagh asked in surprise and lifted her head to face her husband. "Did I miss something here?"

Patrick hoped he was not blushing, cleared his throat and said: "Yes, we are on a first name basis, Stella and I. We figured we were working so closely and we are almost the same age, so we thought it would be easier. Only when there aren't any patients or colleagues are around." He looked into Shelagh's eyes for a while and asked: "Shelagh, are you jealous?"

Shelagh smiled embarrassedly: "No, Patrick, how could I? I know you will never give me a reason to be. I am just surprised. I was not aware you two were so familiar with each other."

Patrick smiled. "You are right, she does watch out for me. Must be her being widowed and having brought up her children all alone. She has a knack for it. And she is a genuinely caring person. I think we can call each other good friends by now."

"I am glad you have her by your side then," Shelagh said. "I sometimes do feel sorry to not be there with you.

"I am going to manage, Shelagh," Patrick said. "You focus on your work and please don't worry about me."

Shelagh took in a deep breath and reached for her glass. She raised it towards her husband and said: "To us, Patrick. Life certainly has not become any easier within the past five years. But I am certain we will pull through one way or the other."

Patrick took his glass, too, took a generous sip and placed it back on the table. Then he kissed his wife on the mouth, retreated and said: "Let us put all those heavy thoughts aside for a moment. How about a dance, would you dance with me? When was the last time I held you in my arms listening to one of our favourite songs?"

Shelagh smiled a sad smile. "It must have been more than a year ago," she sighed. "And yes, I will. But only if you let me adjust your tie again, I want you to look proper for our dance."

Patrick grinned and kissed her again. "As long as we can laugh and dance together I am completely certain we will manage."

"Yes, I couldn't be more certain, and I am glad I have been able to get to know you quite well by now," Shelagh whispered and kissed him back. "Now, will you chose the music or shall I?" she asked playfully after she had abruptly ended their kiss, her cheeks flushed from alcohol and emotion.

Just a few minutes after Patrick had put on one of his favourite Glenn Miller albums and the Turners had enjoyed the first steps of their dance, they heard crying from upstairs.

"Oh, no, Angela is awake again," Shelagh sighed. "It may take a while to settle her, Patrick. Don't wait up for me if you are tired."

Patrick furrowed his brow. He had intended for this evening to be different, completely different from how it had turned out. He looked after his wife who hurried upstairs and turned to switch on the TV. It would be another lonely evening, he figured. But at least they were still talking, he thought.


	11. Stella could watch the children

**Stella could watch the children**

"Good Morning Patrick, how was your weekend?" Stella chimed while walking into Patrick's office with the first cup of tea in her hands. "Sorry, I got in a bit late, Caroline dropped a glass of milk this morning and we had to clean the kitchen real quick."

Patrick smiled at the sight of his receptionist and friend and got up from his chair to take the tea cup from Stella. He placed it on his desk and carefully embraced her. Stella returned the embrace, chuckling.

"I am sorry," her voice muffled because her face was half buried between Patrick's chest and his left upper arm. "Feels as if it has not been an easy weekend."

She took a step back and placed her palms on Patrick's chest. "Am I right?" she asked and Patrick nodded. He covered her hands with his and sighed. "This time it was Teddy having a fever. Since February he and Angela have taken turns in being ill, and even though I am a doctor, I soon can't handle it anymore. Ever since our missed anniversary dinner, that was more than five weeks ago, one of them has been ill with fever, cough, chicken pox, another fever, you name it.

"Oh no, I am so sorry," Stella said. "It can be so very tiring when they are ill. And yes, once one is done, the next one will surely catch something else. I definitely do not miss that part of having little children," she added, pulling out her right hand from under Patrick's and affectionately brushed his cheek.

"Yes, Teddy ill, Angela cranky because she did not have Shelagh's attention, Shelagh did not manage anything around the house so I had to jump in and even do the cooking, you know how much I like it." He paused, frowning at a grinning Stella. "And then we also managed to offend Timothy because we need him to watch the children on Thursday. Shelagh needs to go into night shift while I still have evening surgery and Susan has another appointment. So he is going to miss orchestra practice."

"I could watch them," Stella said. "I am alone for the evening since Caroline is at orchestra practice, too. I like a bit of entertainment."

"Oh no, Stella, I cannot ask this of you," Patrick said quickly. "You are already doing so much more than you need to, you can't come in at night and watch my children."

"Patrick, "Stella said, "I told you that I love watching little children every now and then and since it will be at least another year until I am going to be a grandmother, please let me offer."

Patrick smiled and slid his hands to hold her by her shoulders. "Thank you, I could not be more relieved. Timothy was very upset, he will be so grateful."

"Oh no, I don't want anyone to feel grateful, I only see that you all are under a lot of pressure and I have sufficient time on me to help out. I was in your situation once, too."

"Alright then, I think we have to open now, can you please call the first patient for the day?" Patrick then said, took his white coat which Stella had placed on his office chair earlier and looked back at Stella. "I love you, Stella, I do."

Stella looked at him with a puzzled expression. After a short pause she said: "I am going to call in your first patient in just a second, Dr Turner," and abruptly left the office.

Patrick remained standing even after she had vanished into the corridor. He had not intended to say what he had just said, it had just slipped out. What was going on, he wondered. He was supposed to love his wife. But for the past five months his wife seemed to be further and further away. He hardly saw her awake or alone. They rarely talked about anything not related to the children or their work. Unlike Stella who was always there when he needed her. She would listen to him, tell him off if he needed it to and offer her support anytime. But Stella was not his wife.

Patrick closed his eyes and tried to focus on the here and now when a cheerful voice shook him out of his thoughts: "Good morning, Dr Turner, long time no see."

"Well, good morning Mr Godfrey, I should think it is a good think that we haven't seen each other in how many months exactly?" Patrick greeted his patient, an elderly man with a chronic lung condition, and momentarily forgot about his emotive confusion.

"Have you spoken to your wife?" Stella asked the next day while handing him his coat in order to see him off for clinic.

"Spoken to Shelagh, why?" Patrick asked, slightly confused.

"About me watching the children on Thursday. I assume you would rather want to discuss it with her beforehand," Stella said.

"Oh yes, of course," Patrick chuckled. "Yes, we discussed it and she seemed hesitant at first but seeing that we have no other option, she agreed. There are not many people at the moment whom Shelagh trusts with their bedtime and apparently she has good faith in you," he added, taking a few steps into Stella's direction.

When he leaned in to her she took a step back and held out his coat. "Not this time, you are running late and you need to hurry. I don't want to be the one holding you back from clinic. I remember how as a young mother I used to feel intimidated by the nuns, most of all Sister Evangelina, may she rest in peace. I still remember very vividly how she would occasionally tell you off, back when I attended clinic with Caroline."

"You were at clinic with Caroline?" Patrick asked in surprise. "Why did you never tell me? So I was Caroline's doctor?"

Stella nodded and smiled. "Yes, you were. But not for long, just a few months before we moved. It was closer to see our present GP then and as Caroline had been doing so well, I decided I wouldn't need to go all the way to the Parish Hall every time. Now," she held out his coat "get dressed, you are very late by now."

Patrick slipped into his coat, quickly turned around and lightly brushed Stella's cheek while hurrying past her. "You are a most lovely woman, dear," he said and left his office.

Thursday was a hectic day. Patrick was on the move all day long. Since spring was coming fast now, the flu season finally was on retreat, but with people spending more time outdoors, accidents and injuries were on the rise. When he came back from his afternoon rounds, he found a note from Stella telling him she would be seeing him at night, when he returned home and she would be watching their children. Stella had put the note on his desk, on top of the pile of patient files he would need for appointments today.

Then, just when he had put on his white coat, the phone rang. Another accident had happened, a roadside accident involving a child, just around the corner. Patrick felt adrenaline shoot through his veins, shucked off his white coat, dropping it on the floor, and grabbing his case. He remembered to instruct Nurse Franklin who was on duty at the maternity home to close the surgery for the afternoon.

* * *

Three hours later, Patrick entered his silent house. The children must already be asleep, he thought, noticing it was just past eight. Patrick quietly placed his bag under the coat rack and pulled off his shoes. He let out a sigh and rubbed his back. He had worked bending down for almost an hour, trying to save a young boy, but had failed. He was hurting inside and outside.

He slowly limped into the kitchen where he considered getting himself a drink, this being the only action he would manage right now. He hoped Shelagh would be coming down soon, he needed someone to reassure him, to hold him and help him forget the image of the little boy, covered in blood, dying without his mother present.

Just when he remembered Shelagh was not home, he heard quiet footsteps on the stairs. When he looked up, he watched Stella coming down, her expression changing from anticipation to shock.

"Patrick, whatever happened?" she asked, her voice almost shrill.

"I was called to an accident. A young boy, nine, ten years at most, was hit by a beam that fell of a scaffold at a construction site."

Stella didn't need to hear anymore, she knew what must have happened. "Oh no, I am so sorry, Patrick. Come here," she said, approached him with her arms open and hugged him tightly. His breathing was ragged, his heart raced. Stella gently stroked his back with her right hand and hummed as if she was soothing a little child.

"It is part of my everyday job," Patrick murmured into the crook of her neck, "but a dying child, one that is crying for his mother who was not able to make it in time, is among the worst that can happen."

"I am so sorry," Stella repeated, still stroking Patrick's back.

"Now, I think you should get rid of your clothes. Once Timothy comes back he needn't to see you all bloody and dirty, don't you think?" Stella said.

"Oh Stella, you are taking such good care of me," Patrick said with a sad voice. "You are watching my children, you are seeing to my appearance, how can I ever pay you back?" He leaned in to her quite heavily, his body limp, all energy having waned.

"Shhh," Stella said. "I won't hear anything of it. Let's get you upstairs first. Once we have gotten you cleaned up and dressed into a fresh shirt, things will begin to look differently again." She carefully stepped back and took Patrick's right hand into her left. "Come on, dear, let me take care of you."

They slowly walked upstairs and into the bathroom where Stella began to undress Patrick as if it was the most natural thing to do. He stood very still, eyes weary, his body limp and aching. Stella drew him a bath and carefully steadied him while he stepped into the bathtub. She took a flannel from the small shelf next to the tub and a soap bar. Then she knelt down besides the tub and began to carefully clean Patrick's face, neck, arms and his chest.

Neither of them spoke. Patrick kept his eyes closed all the time, he seemed asleep, he only twitched occasionally when Stella hid a ticklish spot or rubbed a little too tightly in a sensitive area. Stella worked carefully, her touch firm but very gentle, transmitting the great amount of affection she held for the man in front of her. When she was done washing Patrick's face, neck chest, she carefully pushed his shoulders away from the rim of the tub. Next, she rose to her feet, bent forward and began softly wash his back. Then she put away the flannel and started to knead the tight muscles of Patrick's shoulders. "You are very tight. I should do this more often," she whispered while methodically working his sore muscles.

A moan escaped his mouth, causing Stella to smile. She felt him relax under her touch and for a moment thought he might fall asleep. She was surprised, though, when he suddenly rose a little from his position and stilled her hands with his. Patrick turned his head and looked at her. Stella dropped on her knees so she was at eye-level with Patrick.

"Thank you." Patrick murmured. "This was exactly what I needed." He leant forward and placed a quick kiss on Stella's mouth. Stella smiled into his kiss and stroked his wet hair with one hand. She pressed her mouth on his before getting up again. "I am sorry, but my knees won't allow this position any longer," she laughed.

Patrick extended his left hand and Stella took it into her right, sitting down on the rim of the tub besides Patrick. "Oh yes, ageing comes with quite a bit of discomfort," he said. Stella smiled at him and gently stroked the nape of his neck.

"I used to do this a lot to my husband. We never were," she smiled shyly before she continued, "well we never acted very intimately with each other, but cleaning him while he was in the tub was what we would do regularly. Especially after the war. We would never talk, he would just sit in the tub and let me wash him," Stella's voice trailed off.

Patrick breathed in heavily and reached for her hand still at his nape. He drew it to his mouth and kissed it carefully before releasing it.

"No one has ever done this to me. And it felt more than wonderful, Stella." He looked at her for a while, goose bumps forming on his forearms. He was not able to tell whether it came from his wet skin getting cold or the excitement of being naked while being touched by Stella's soft hands.

"Would you hand me a towel?" he asked and Stella got up to fetch one. Patrick stood up and Stella wrapped him into the towel, carefully rubbing his upper arms. Patrick stepped out of the bath, quickly dried his arms and slung the towel around his chest. Next he drew Stella into a tight hug, letting out a deep sigh. "This was wonderful, love, I am feeling so much better. Just what I needed."

They remained in their embrace for a long while until Stella eventually said. "Now, you better get dressed and I should go downstairs. I assume Timothy will be back any time and I really need to go home to see Caroline."

Patrick nodded. "Of course. Will you wait for me until I am dressed? I am going to hurry."

Stella smiled. "Yes, of course. Now go. I am going to prepare you some tea."

A few minutes later, Patrick came down the stairs, just when Stella poured hot water into the Turners' tea pot. Patrick approached her but when he wanted to put his arms around her, they heard the front door. Patrick quickly sat down on a kitchen chair and Stella put down the tea pot in front of him.

"I think I am done for the day then, doctor," she said, while Patrick was giving her right hand a quick squeeze. He got up again and said: "Yes, thank you very much, Mrs Gillespie. We could not have managed without you."

He followed her into the hallway and retrieved her coat from the coat rack where Timothy had just placed his cardigan. "Good evening, Mrs Gillespie", the boy said politely and nodded at his father before entering the kitchen.

"Thank you, Stella. You were my rescue tonight," Patrick whispered while opening the door for Stella. She smiled warmly at him and whispered: "Anything for you Patrick." Then, with a louder voice, she said: "Good night, Doctor Turner." Patrick smiled and nodded at her, returning the good night. Then he stilled her with his left hand. "Now that Timothy is home, I should drive you." Stella shook her head. "No, please, you go on talk to your son."

Patrick shook his head, too. "No, after all you have been doing for us, this is the least I can do. Tim will be able to wait for another ten minutes."

"Patrick, it is not even a ten minute walk, please stay and take care of your children," Stella said forcefully and Patrick nodded in agreement. He watched after her until she had passed the garden door until he closed the door behind her and returned to the kitchen.

"Good evening, son. How was orchestra practice?" Timothy mumbled a few unintelligible words, chewing on a slice of toast he had buttered generously, crumbs and a smear of butter still visible on the worktop. Patrick chose to not mention the mess for the moment, aware of the danger to stir a tired and hungry boy's moods.

"Well, seems to have been good," Patrick murmured, while walking towards the living room. He would watch a bit of TV before going to sleep in an empty bed, with Shelagh being out. Not that it made much of a difference whether she was at work or at home, he thought bitterly.


	12. They're closing us down

**They're closing us down**

The next morning, Patrick arrived at surgery later than usual. He walked past the first patients already waiting for him. He noticed Stella coming up behind him and closed his office door once they were inside.

"How are you this morning?" Stella asked, a bit of concern in her voice.

"I am very good, thank you," Patrick said. "I had a very good night's sleep. Thanks to you," he added in a lowered voice.

Stella smiled. "I am so glad. I was worried about you. I have never seen you in such a troubled state."

"I am sorry, I didn't want to frighten you and I wasn't my usual self, "Patrick said. "But I am so glad you were there. I would not have been able to sleep had it not been for you."

"I am sorry, but you have seen the patients waiting outside," Stella said. "I think we better begin."

"You are right, dear," Patrick sighed. "Please, can you see that I have half an hour before my afternoon rounds? I need to write a report for the coroner about yesterday's accident."

"Of course. Anything else?" Stella asked.

"Not now. But if you fancy, I would very much like to spend our lunch break together." Stella nodded. "Yes, doctor."

She left his office and Patrick watched her disappear, smiling at the thought of getting to spend his break with her.

The next weeks passed without any major incidents. Patrick and Stella had developed a way of understanding each other without talking much. They would enjoy seeing each other in between patients, Stella placing files on his desk, a fresh cup of tea or the morning post. Every time, one of them would initiate even the smallest touch.

They often spent their lunch break together, apart from the rare occasions Shelagh was at the surgery, sometimes in her capacity as nurse, sometimes on her days off when she dropped in while she was running errands. But this happened only very rarely.

One morning in mid-May, Patrick had hardly entered his office, when he received a phone call from the District Board of Health. Once he was done, he slammed down the receiver with so much force that Stella thought he had broken it.

"They are closing us down. Stella, can you believe? They are closing us down?" Patrick shouted while walking out of his office into the reception area. The district health officer had informed him of a major order the Ministry of Health had passed earlier the same week.

"What? No, Patrick, this can't be true. Did they tell you just now?" Stella asked, alarmed. She jumped up from her chair and quickly walked into Patrick's direction. She reached and gently touched his cheek, which was pale of anger. Then, equally quick, she squeezed his hand and retreated hers again. Sister Winifred had already arrived to see to the maternity home and they did not want to give her the wrong impression.

"Can you come through to my office at once?" Patrick asked, almost begging, his voice shaking. Stella nodded and followed him. In his office, Patrick quietly closed the door and drew Stella into a tight embrace. He rested his head on hers for a while and took in a few deep breaths.

Then he retreated again, violently tugged at the knot of his tie to loosen it until he thankfully accepted Stella's calm fingers stilling his, helping with the aspired task. Next, he took hold of her hands and entangled their fingers. "Two years ago they said they would reassess their decision to keep us open but this is taking me completely by surprise. We are almost fully booked every day. Rates of home births are declining but so far we have not seen any decline of mothers. This has been my life for the past fifteen years and more, and they are just closing it down in a matter of minutes?"

"Patrick, I am so sorry," Stella said, squeezing his hands.

Patrick let go of Stella's hands and ran his own through his hair. He walked a few steps into the room, huffed, shook his head and returned. He covered his face with his palms and let out an angry sound.

"I was just on the phone with David Scarborough, the Officer of Health. We have been working together in one or another capacity since the start of the National Health so he said he wanted to prepare me for the official letter that is going to arrive within the next days."

"Did he say anything about what we could do?" Stella said. "You managed once to keep the Maternity Home open, you can do it again, I am sure? Whatever it takes, I am going to help with it."

Patrick looked at her and let out a bitter laugh. "This time it is final. They have already passed an order, and there is nothing to be done. All homes with fewer than 20 beds are to be closed within the next two months. We can take on already assigned cases but are no longer permitted to take on new mothers. We have to refer them to hospitals with immediate effect."

"Don't you think you can at least expect an explanation during a meeting in person? I have worked on the statistics with you, your home is one of the best of its kind in all of London. I don't think you should give up so easily,-"

"Stella, please. Just leave it for now," Patrick shouted angrily, immediately shocked at his outburst. "Look, I am sorry, I should not have," he said but was interrupted by Stella smiling warmly at him. "No, Patrick, I am sorry. You do not deserve any of this," she said, opened her arms and Patrick thankfully leaned into her embrace. The two stood still for a long moment, listening to each other's breathing, feeling each other's heart beat. This is how it is supposed to be, Patrick thought, just before they heard a loud bang outside and abruptly ended their hug, both taking a large step backwards.

Stella ungently bumped against the office door, she had forgotten how close she was standing to it. "Stella, did you hurt your head?" Patrick asked concerned, approaching her again.

Stella smiled and shook her head. "Oh no, thank you, I am fine, just a little clumsy today, it seems."

She smoothed her hair with both hands and hurried outside to check on the noise. Through the open door and the corridor Patrick heard Stella's and Sister Winifred's muffled voices. Most likely the eager nun must have dropped something while being in a hurry to return to a labouring mother.

He took another breath. Stella would deal with Sister Winifred, he thought with relief. Right now, he did not feel able to deal with the young nun. Not with anyone, if he was honest. But he had to. He had been through a war, mental illness and his first wife's death. He would manage, he knew.

Patrick leaned his back against the wall and covered his mouth with his hands while huffing again. He felt lost. He wasn't totally unprepared, they had made it clear that this was to be expected eventually. So the day was here now. He was unprepared. How could he be prepared to let go what he had built in numerous hours and weeks and years? Where he had put in so much of his energy and lifetime and passion?

Shelagh would be devastated, too. The Maternity Home had meant as much to her as it had to him. They had tirelessly worked to turn it into one of London's best ones and now it all should end just like this? With a phone call and a letter. Patrick rubbed his eyes with his hands. He would need to pull himself together now, morning surgery was about to begin.

Just when he began to move towards his desk, he noticed Stella enter the office again. She was carrying a steaming cup of tea and warmly smiled at him.

"I brought you a little something," she said. "I know you never have biscuits in the morning, but I figured you might want some now to raise your spirits a little. They are the chocolate ones, your favourites. I kept an extra box for a day like this."

Patrick smiled wearily. "Stella, what would I do without you," he murmured while leaning in to her and fleetingly kissing her cheek. Stella buried her face in the crook of his neck and whispered: "Should we close for the morning? It looks as if we are not going to be that busy. I could send those who are already waiting outside home or to a locum if you want me to?"

"You are too kind," Patrick murmured. "But I have to deal with it later, now, I need to see to my patients. I can't let the bad news get into my way right now. My patients deserve me doing my best, no matter what some politicians have decided."

Stella let out an audible breath and took a step back. "Alright then, doctor. Time to get to work now." Then she reached out for his tie and adjusted it again. "Good thing you have me to check on you, you cannot see a patient like this," she scolded him playfully while fiddling with the piece of clothing. When she was done, Stella walked towards the door where she turned around and flashed him one last encouraging smile.

Patrick returned the smile and quickly put on his white coat which he had thrown on his desk after entering his office earlier this morning. Stella always managed to turn his mood for the better. Even on a day like this when the news could hardly been worse to begin the day with.

* * *

A few hours later, surgery had ended and Stella had finished her tasks for the morning. She was just about to lock the door for lunch break when Shelagh entered. "Mrs Turner?" she exclaimed. "What a surprise, I wasn't aware you were due in today. Your husband is in his office, please go through."

Shelagh smiled at Stella. "Didn't he tell you he wanted me to come over? He called Nonnatus House and asked me to come during lunch break."

"No, he said nothing," Stella replied. "But he has had quite a morning. He is going to tell you, just go on."

Shelagh raised her eyebrows and quickly walked towards her husband's office.

Patrick looked up from his writing when she entered and his face lit up. "Shelagh, I am so glad you were able to come." He got up from his chair and approached her, placing his hands on her shoulders and kissing her cheek.

"Mrs Gillespie said you were having an unpleasant morning?" Shelagh asked concerned.

Patrick raised his eyebrows. "Yes, I did indeed. Please, sit down before I tell you." He reached for her coat and placed it on the exam table before sitting down next to Shelagh on the second visitor's chair.

"They are going to close us down," he said, looking into his wife's eyes.

"What? No, this is not possible. When did you learn about it?" Shelagh exclaimed and covered her mouth with her hands.

"First thing this morning. David called ahead of the official letter which is going to be posted within the next days. We are no longer permitted to take on new mothers with immediate effect."

"No, Patrick, this must be a mistake, -"

"Shelagh," Patrick interrupted his wife, "Shelagh, no. It was a political decision to close all smaller homes and we're on the list this time." Patrick propped up his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands. He let out a huff and his shoulders slumped.

Shelagh leant forward and placed her right hand on her husband's left forearm. "Alright, Patrick. I am going to leave it now, but I think we should discuss this again tonight. Something must be done. I am certain Sister Julienne will also want to help us."

Patrick shook his head but remained silent. He knew better than to argue with his wife once she had made up her mind. And he knew better than to fight a battle when the war was already lost.

„As good as Susan's cooking is, I prefer your steak and kidney pie over hers," Patrick sighed when Shelagh finally was done with her duties for the day and sat down next to him on the settee. She yawned and let her upper body fall against his. Patrick caught her and drew her into an embrace of his right arm.

"When am I supposed to do the cooking?" Shelagh asked, clearly irritated. "I have enough on my plate as it is. I think you are perfectly fine with Susan's cooking on weekdays."

Patrick frowned. He had managed to anger his wife again, without intending to. He had only wanted to let her know he fancied her cooking over Susan's but as so many times during the past months, she felt attacked immediately.

"Shelagh, I didn't imply anything with what I just said. I only want you to know that I will always prefer your cooking to anyone else's. But I do not expect you to cook when you have so many other things to do."

Shelagh yawned again and drew her legs close to her body. "I am sorry," she murmured. "I am just so tired again."

"I know," Patrick whispered and placed a kiss into her hair.

"Can we talk about the Maternity Home again?" Shelagh asked tentatively.

"Not when you are tired and when there isn't really anything we can do," Patrick said, in a resigned voice.

"This is not the Patrick Turner I know," Shelagh said, her voice firm. She sat up again and looked at her husband. "Even if they have decided it on a higher level, there certainly must be some loopholes. What if you are the only home in an area where there is a very high demand? We do have all the statistics, don't we?"

Patrick took in a deep breath. Shelagh was right, they should look into every possibility there was. But he, too, was tired. Tired of fighting a fight that he would eventually lose.

"But even if we find a loophole, time is working against us," he said meekly. "Even if we are going to be at 80, 90 per cent capacity right now, you know as well as I do that rates are on the decline. More and more mothers enquire about a hospital birth and decide to go there. And it is what the National Heath and politicians want, too. So even if we manage to remain open for another year or two, they will eventually close us in the end.

"But Patrick, think about how many mothers one or two more years will mean. It will be more than two hundred or even more," Shelagh countered.

Patrick shook his head in resignation. It was all just too much at the moment. "I am sorry, I am tired," he murmured and got up from the settee. "I am going to bed." He felt Shelagh's eyes on his back all the way until he had reached the top of the stairs. Tonight, he was the one who needed some space and time alone.


	13. Someone who can give me strength

**Someone who can give me strength**

Patrick did not mention the Maternity Home for the coming days and neither Stella nor Shelagh dared mention it again. They both knew he needed his time to come to terms with the situation and would eventually come up with a plan.

When Stella brought the morning post one morning, an envelope from the Ministry of Health was on top of the stack. She carefully placed it in front of Patrick who sat at his desk and placed her right hand on his shoulder in support. Patrick looked at her with a questioning look, and when she nodded towards the envelope, he understood.

"We know what it says, don't we," he murmured angrily and opened the envelope with his paper knife. Patrick unfolded the letter and quickly scanned it. He handed it to Stella and leaned back in his chair. "So we have it on paper and with an official stamp now," he said bitterly.

Stella's hand, still on Patrick's shoulder, squeezed it in affirmation and she looked up from the letter to Patrick. "I am so sorry. If I could do anything to help, please tell me."

Patrick let out a desperate huff. "I think we have tried everything. All owners of Maternity Homes have been seeing this coming, and we have written letters over letters and spoken in so many meetings but someone at an upper level won't hear us. So no, there isn't really anything we can do."

"Don't you think you are going to regret it one day if you don't at least try to do something?" Stella asked while straightening herself up and crossing her arms in front of her chest. "Forgive me if I am rude, but you acting hopeless and resigning does not suit you, Patrick."

Patrick looked at her in surprise and raised his brows.

"Yes, let me tell you what I think," Stella said, her voice quivering of anger. "If it is in the best interest of your patients, you never shied away from a fight. Why now? And even if you can't change the new law, or reverse a decision made in the Ministry of Health, I am certain that one day you are going to regret that you haven't at least tried one last time."

Stella looked down on Patrick, her arms still crossed. She bit her lips and her breath was shaky from sudden excitement. Patrick felt a wave or warmth wash over him. Stella was right, of course she was right. When had he become hopeless and meek? And how did she come to know what she had to tell him to spur his energy again?

He reached out his arm, inviting her into his embrace. Stella walked near him and Patrick slid his arms around her waist. He pressed his left cheek against her abdomen and said in a meek voice: "I am sorry, I don't know why I am so negative. I know this is not my usual self. But with all that has been happening over the past months, the news about the Maternity Home just seemed to be the last straw in bringing me down. If it wasn't for you, I don't know how I would even manage to go through another day."

"Shh," Stella whispered and began stroking his hair. "Don't say this, Patrick. We both know this is not how it is supposed to be."

Both stood still for a long while until they heard someone call through the corridor. Immediately, Stella jumped back from her position and exclaimed: "Oh no, we forgot about the time, the first patients are already here." She hurried outside and Patrick took a few seconds to gather himself again. Stella was right, he had to do something, even if it seemed a hopeless case. But when had he last given up on a patient? He could not remember, because it was not who he was.

* * *

Almost one week later, on a Tuesday afternoon, Stella walked into Patrick's office, waving the list with his afternoon house calls.

"Stella!" Patrick exclaimed happily while looking up from his task of packing his doctor's bag. "You were out for your lunch break, I missed you."

Stella smiled. "I am sorry, I received a call from my future daughter-in-law and had to go to the haberdasher's real quick. She needed a special kind of lace and Mrs Buckle did indeed have the one Sophie requested."

"Oh, the wedding. I forgot about it. Is it this weekend?"

"No, the weekend after. First in June," Stella smiled. "They picked the same day Martin and me got married."

"If you need any time off, you know, to help with anything, or for the preparations, I am happy to give it to you," Patrick said while getting up from his chair.

Stella beamed at him. "Thank you, Patrick. I may take you up on your offer indeed. I assume they might need a few hands the Friday and Thursday before the wedding. I always thought Sophie wasn't too keen on me, but when it comes to helping prepare their wedding it turns out that the future mum-in-law does come in quite handy at times."

Patrick chuckled, lifted his bag already placed on his desk and turned towards the door. Then he halted and said: "Oh, Stella, I forgot something. I have a meeting at the Board of Health tomorrow morning. I just received a reply on my request for an appointment. Could you cancel all patients until eleven o'clock?"

"Why, Patrick, that is good news? I knew you would eventually try to have another word with them," Stella said.

Patrick smiled. "Well, you were right when you said that I was not the person to give up even on a hopeless case. And I won't go down without trying." He paused, looking at her intently.

Stella raised her eyebrows and said: "What is it? Patrick?"

After a few more seconds, Patrick said: "Would you come with me? To support me?"

Stella gave him a puzzled look: "Me? Why? What could I possible do or contribute? You should rather take your wife or one of the Sisters. They have done so much to turn the maternity home into the beacon institution that it is."

"They have an audit from the National Health tomorrow. I am going to ask Shelagh tonight but I am certain she will not want to come. She is going to be needed at Nonnatus House. She is the one most capable with regard to both administration and nursing right next to Sister Julienne, she will feel responsible to support them." He paused and swallowed before carrying on: "It is not so much contributing something, that's not it. I,-" he paused again, "I would like to have you with me to support me. To know that someone is there who can give me their strength."

Stella took a tentative step into Patrick's direction and smiled at him affectionately. "Yes, I am coming with you, Patrick. Of course I will."

When Patrick also took a step into Stella's direction, she shook her head and raised both her hands as if to fend him off. "Patrick, hurry up, you were supposed to be at clinic 15 minutes ago."

* * *

"Another day coming to an end," Patrick sighed, while sitting down on his bed. On her side, Shelagh had already snuggled into her covers and began dozing off.

"Are you prepared for tomorrow?" Patrick asked.

Shelagh made a humming sound. "Yes, I am. I think we will perform as well as always. How about you? Do you feel prepared? I am sorry I can't go with you this time. Will you be alright all by yourself?"

"Actually, I asked Stella to come along," Patrick said while shuffling backwards until his back came to rest against the backrest.

Shelagh opened her eyes again, watching him intently: "Stella? Why is this?"

"I am sorry, I could have told you earlier, but we haven't really had five minute to talk all day, haven't we," Patrick sighed. "Stella suggested I take you or one of the Sisters along but since I knew you all are going to be busy tomorrow, I asked her to come. I don't know why, really. I think I just want to know that I am not alone, fighting all by myself."

He paused and watched Shelagh for a while until he continued: "I am weary, Shelagh. I am tired and exhausted. I need someone to back me up, even if it is just for telling me I did the right thing when I begin to doubt I did."

Now Shelagh propped herself up on her elbow, her face alert. "Patrick, you never told me," she said, her voice shaking. "I knew it was not easy for you, the closing of the maternity home. It is not for me, either. But you could have told me that you do not feel able to go there alone. I would have made time."

Patrick looked at his wife with a sad expression. "There was a time when there would not have been a need to tell you this. You would have known. Why do I need to tell you now?"

Shelagh bit her lips and lightly shook her head.

"Shelagh, I have tried to tell you this for the past weeks but I never get through. I don't know where you are, where my wife is. Right now you are here beside me, but I feel as if you are miles away. We never talk, we never touch, and I feel the connection we always felt has been cut."

Now, Shelagh sat up, too, mirroring her husband's position. She shuffled a bit closer to him, but without touching him anywhere.

"I am sorry," she whispered. "I was not aware how you felt. But I am not certain what you are asking of me?"

"I am asking you to reconsider your many obligations. I told you before, I would never ask nor want you to leave your work behind. It is too important a part of you. But as it is now, everyone, me, you, the children, everyone is suffering because you are trying to do more than you can."

Shelagh covered her mouth with her hands for a while, contemplating what her husband had just said. When she spoke, it was again with a firm voice: "Patrick, we have talked about this before. It is much, perhaps it is too much for all of us for the moment. But it has only been three months. And I think things will need a bit more time to settle down."

"But Shelagh,-" Patrick began only to be interrupted by his wife.

"Patrick, no. Please do not let us have this conversation again, not while we are both tired and need to sleep."

Patrick sighed. "But when are we supposed to have this conversation? This is the only place and time of the day when we are able to speak in private. And it proves my point that if we carry on like this we will no longer be able to manage eventually. It is only 10.30 but you can hardly keep your eyes open because you do too much and because you are still taking those pills."

Shelagh huffed. "Yes, I am taking the pills and they make me feel good. Don't you want me to feel good? And yes, I feel it is too much, but I also think that right now we will have to pull through this rough patch and once we have established our routine, we will indeed manage. The children are getting older, and easier, more independent. Angela will soon be her old self, I am certain. Teddy is getting along very well with Susan. I don't see why you want me to make all the adjustments now."

She unsuccessfully tried to stifle a yawn and rubbed her eyes.

Patrick slowly shook his head. He reached out for his wife's left hand, raised it to his mouth and kissed her wedding band. "Shelagh, I love you and I want us to be happy. I never said it would be easy but I can't go on like this. I just can't and I want you to know."

Shelagh shuffled closer to her husband and leaned against him. She rested her head on his shoulder and said: "Yes, times are difficult at the moment. But let us just wait a few weeks and it will be different again, I am certain."

The Turners remained seated for a while until Patrick noticed Shelagh's breathing getting more even and her body slumping against his. She had fallen asleep. Patrick considered laying her down but decided to remain in their position for a while longer. He missed his wife's touch and also touching her, apart from hasty kisses hello and good bye. Right now, he needed to feel her, to reassure himself of her presence, even if it was only her body that was there with him in their bed.


	14. The meeting, or: Fancy a short trip?

**The meeting, or: Fancy a short trip?**

Stella was as excited as him, Patrick noticed smilingly. She nervously fiddled with her fingers and her legs kept shuffling on the grey linoleum floor of the waiting area outside of the District Office of Health.

Thanks to his acquaintance with the Officer for Health, Patrick had been able to secure the appointment and even though he knew he would not be able to change things, being here now, suddenly meant a lot to him, it was his last chance to underline the importance of one of the most important parts of his life.

When he was called in, just before he closed the door behind him, Patrick turned towards Stella, reassuring himself by taking in her radiant smile, encouraging him to do his best.

Inside, Patrick felt a remarkable strength. No only was he able to present all relevant the statistics and reports about the maternity home, showing what an extraordinary service they had been providing for all the years of its existence. Moreover, he knew Stella was outside, waiting for him, with her warm smile and sharing his anxiousness.

When he came out of the office, he had to restrain himself almost violently to not embrace Stella. As much as he felt the need to, he was aware of how very improper this would have been, embracing his receptionist in a public space. Yet, he could not stop himself from taking her hand and suqeezing it tightly, though, smiling a relieved smile at her, his veins still full of adrenaline.

"How did it go?" Stella asked curiously.

"As expected. I was able to state my case again and basically everyone was convinced that I was right but since they were only executing a policy ordered by the Ministry of Health, they were sorry to not be able to help us. David said he is going to bring our case to the Minister of Health again as we are not the only Maternity Home. But he was not able to give us much hope."

Stella sighed compassionately. "I am sorry, Patrick. I was hoping and praying they would tell you otherwise."

Patrick smiled at her, remembering he was still holding her hand. He let go of it and said quietly: "It is still early, would you join me for a short trip?"

Stella's expression turned to surprise. "Where to?" she asked.

Patrick cocked his head and said: "Just come along, I am going to show you something."

Stella followed him outside where they got into Patrick's car and he drove off.

"Are we going to Epping Forest?" Stella asked after they had been driving in silence for about fifteen minutes. When Patrick nodded, she said in a concerned voice: "Patrick, we are not going to make it back in time. It is already past ten o'clock, you still have patients to see later this morning."

Patrick took a deep breath and responded: "You are right. But I need a moment by myself. Nurse Franklin is in charge of the Maternity Home this morning, I am certain she will manage. I am going to stop at the next telephone box and tell her to cancel surgery this morning because something has come up. If this calms you?"

Stella pursed her lips and remained silent. She was clearly torn between curiosity and her unease to neglect their duties at the surgery on a regular weekday.

Half an hour later, Patrick pulled up near a narrow path leading into a patch of forest. He got out of the car, walked around the boot and opened Stella's door.

"This is a lovely spot. And it feels so extravagant to come here on a Wednesday morning," Stella said after she had gotten out and was looking around. It was a sunny morning, spring was in full bloom. A light breeze rustled the leaves and somewhere not far, a brook gurgled.

"Come with me," Patrick said, taking Stella's hand. He directed them into the path where, after a few minutes of walking they reached a spot overseeing a small valley with meadows and a few bushes. Birds where chiming all around them and the grass was dotted with white and yellow flowers.

"This is one of my favourite spots," he said, putting his arms around Stella's shoulders. "Sadly, I am coming here far too rarely," Patrick sighed and Stella rested her head against his right shoulder, breathing in deeply. "I love it, too," she murmured. "The air is lovely, and the silence -," she took in a deep breath, "I have forgotten how it feels to be out of the city for a change."

The couple remained still for a long moment, revelling in comfort each other's presence brought them. Then Patrick turned slightly, carefully stroked Stella's cheeks and began kissing her slowly. Stella immediately responded and the two carried on for a few minutes. Eventually, Stella pulled back.

She blinked and breathed heavily. Then she took Patrick's left hand into both of her own and held it tight while she spoke: "I told you a while ago that I never want to come between you and your wife. But as it is now, I am afraid this is exactly what is happening at the moment and I don't think this is good for either of us."

A single tear fell out of her left eye and Patrick, very slowly, hardly visible, began shaking his head. He lifted his right hand and wiped away the tear with his index finger. Then he cupped her cheek with his left hand, carefully stroking it with his thumb.

"Yes, I can see what you mean," he said quietly. "But I need you to know that I am serious. I do not want to play games, and I do not want to be dishonest with anyone. I do not want to hurt anyone either. What is between us, it is, … it has grown so carefully, and tenderly, and with Shelagh being so distant and away, you are the reason I am able to carry on at the moment."

Stella squeezed his hand yet more tightly. "I know, Patrick, I know. But this is not right. You are a married man. You have young children who need their father. You are holding a respectable position in your community. And so do I, for that matter. We can't risk all of this. Also, if it wasn't for your wife being away so frequently, you would probably never have come to notice me they way you did."

"No, Stella. Please don't say this," Patrick said beggingly.

Stella smiled a sad smile. "It is the truth, Patrick. Yes, we do love each other and I know we both are sincere and honest with our feelings towards each other. But everything that I am doing right now, every day, supporting you when you have a difficult meeting, giving you comfort when you are hurting, all of this is really the task of a wife. And as good as it feels to be with you, I can never get rid of the little voice in my head telling me that it is wrong what we are doing."

"Stella, you are the best friend I have had in a very long time," Patrick began, but Stella interrupted him, her voice shaking: "Yes, and you are the best friend I have had in a long time. But this does not make it right. We are not just friends anymore. We are constantly crossing a line that we are not supposed to go even near," she said and another tear rolled down her cheek.

Patrick hugged her tightly again and held her while she sobbed silently. He, too, felt almost moved to tears. How could something that felt so right be so very wrong? He, of all people, should know, he who once had fallen in love with a nun. Of course, Stella was right. He needed to sort things out with Shelagh, rather than seek comfort with Stella. But he had been trying to talk to Shelagh for half a year now and she never understood or accepted what he wanted to tell her.

When he was with Stella, he did not need to feel the need to be with his wife. He was simply happy being with Stella. But then, Shelagh was his wife and after all they had been through, he would never consider having things differently. They had a family and a once happy home. They could make it happy again. They all needed and deserved to be happy again.

He was shaken out of his thoughts by Stella stirring in his arms and wiggling herself out of his embrace. He watched her walking a few steps away, until she stopped, dried her face with her palms and silently looked over the little valley in front of them for a while. Then, without looking back at him, she slowly began to speak: "Patrick, I think it is best I hand in my notice today. I have offered it before but right now I mean it. It always felt so good to be working alongside you. To be with you. But I feel that we are within dangerous territory now and I can't risk we both damage our reputation. It is not so much for me, but for the sake of our children. None of them deserves this. And neither does your wife."

Patrick nodded slowly. Of course, Stella was right. She was always right. He had the definite knack to fall for women who were excellent judges of life, he thought bitterly. Being with Marianne, his first wife, he had come to understand why wives were said to be a couple's better half. With Shelagh even more so, and Stella, too, had always been a necessary corrective to his sometimes absent-mindedness, his weakness.

Now Stella turned around to face him again. "I know what you are thinking. It is fairly easy, your face tells a lot, even if you probably think it does not," she said, smiling a small, sad smile. "You are feeling sorry for yourself because you really would like to keep things how they are. Have your family at home and not having to confront your wife because there is me comforting you and listening whenever you need someone. And who is giving you the intimate attention and kissing and touching that you are lacking in your marriage at present."

"Stella!" Patrick exclaimed, but she interrupted him: "Please, be honest with yourself and face things how they are. We have talked about this before, how there are things we are never going to do with each other. And don't tell me you are not thinking about them every now and then, for I do. And I have noticed how you are looking at me in those moments when you think that I don't notice."

Stella pursed her lips again, fighting back her tears. She paused for a while and said with a toneless voice: "Can you please take me home now, Patrick? I can't carry on like this any longer."

Patrick was not able to move. He stood still, only slightly shaking his head, until he said: "Please, Stella, don't leave me."

Stella frowned: "Leave you?" she exclaimed bitterly. "I am not leaving you because there is nothing for me to leave. It is you who must take care of either you not leaving your family or your wife leaving you when she finds out that we long have stopped being mere friends."

Patrick took a step towards Stella but she raised her hands. "No, not this time. This is your way of ending these talks, hugging or kissing me, making me forget that we said we would be careful. But we are getting careless, Patrick. Me going to the Board of Health with you this morning? We can't allow this to happen again. If anyone had come by us in that corridor when you came out of the office, the way you looked at me, Patrick, this was very inappropriate."

Stella blinked again and wiped the tears from her eyes using her fingertips.

"I am sorry," Patrick said. "I am sorry for having moved us into this dead end and if I could I would do whatever it took to get us out. But I do not know what we are supposed to do."

"Set things straight with your wife," Stella said in a low, almost whispering voice that had lost all power. "Can we please go now. You have your rounds and I, I just need to lie down for a while until Caroline comes home. She will notice that I am not well," Stella said, her voice getting firmer now.

Patrick swallowed and slowly walked back into the direction of his car. He suppressed his urge to extend his arm towards Stella. He had a strong desire to touch her, to feel her but she had made clear she did not want it right now.

The drive back to Poplar was silent, only occasionally interrupted by one of them clearing their throat or coughing. Stella occasionally blowing her nose, or wiping away a stray tear. Patrick felt almost physical pain at seeing her so devastated. He had fallen in love with her radiance and positive attitude, only to make it crumble with his actions.

He dropped her off in front of her house and left for the surgery, hoping Nurse Franklin might have done him the favour of putting together the list for his afternoon calls. If he was honest he felt like calling in sick, but then he would have to go home, watch the little ones. And he did not feel strong enough to do this just now. So he carried on, reminding himself that he had taken an oath and was responsible for his patients' welfare at all times.


	15. Another argument

**Another argument**

"How was your appointment, Patrick?" Shelagh exclaimed when Patrick walked into the kitchen that night. "Your evening rounds kept you out long today?"

He approached Shelagh and absent-mindedly gave her a kiss on her cheek.

"Patrick Turner, have you been drinking?" Shelagh cried.

Patrick nodded. He had to work hard to focus, to not let his voice slur and to keep himself upright. He needed to concentrate. "I've had a hard day, dear, I am sorry," he slowly said. "I knew in advance that the appointment at the Board of Health would not be changing anything, but it still hurts that I was not able to achieve another outcome."

Shelagh opened her arms and hugged her husband. "I am so sorry," she murmured into his waistcoat. Patrick loosely put his arms around her and took in her scent. When had they last done this, he wondered, just holding each other for comfort?

"Is there something else?" Shelagh asked carefully.

"Stella has put in her notice."

Shelagh bent her head back and looked into Patrick's eyes: "Oh no, not now. Why is that?"

Patrick sighed. "I… we… we had a disagreement and we thought it was best if she left."

"What was it about, the disagreement?" Shelagh asked curiously.

"I do not want to talk about it right now, I am sorry, Shelagh," Patrick said, closing his eyes while letting out a long breath.

Shelagh pursed her lips, raised herself on her tiptoes and placed a kiss on her husband's cheek before moving towards the worktop. "Have a seat, I just made some tea. I wanted to wait up and see how it went with the Board."

Patrick groaned, sat down at the dining table and thankfully took the cup his wife passed him. He put it down it in front of him and buried his hands in his face. Shelagh sat down opposite of him, and put down her cup in front of her, too.

"Patrick, what is it?" she asked alarmed.

"Shelagh I think we need to talk. I tried to a few times over the last months but you never seemed to get how important it was to me. Some things have happened – " he paused and ran his fingers through his hair. "Some things have happened that made me realize that our marriage is in danger. I want us to do what we want, to be happy, but we cannot risk our health and our family."

Shelagh looked at her husband with a surprised expression. "Yes, things have not been easy with us lately. But I don't know what exactly you are talking about?"

Patrick took a spoon and stirred his tea for a long while. "I feel that we are growing apart," he slowly began while raising his head to face Shelagh. "We hardly talk anymore, we hardly see each other anymore. I miss you, Shelagh. Since you are no longer working at the surgery every day, I miss you so very much. And even at home we never even seem to have a few minutes to ourselves. And we never - "he paused, looked at the stairs and lowered his voice when he continued: "we never get intimate with each other anymore. When was the last time we were, -" he paused and cleared his throat, "see, I cannot even remember. Can you?"

Shelagh's cheeks flushed and she blinked a few times before slowly shaking her head. "I am sorry, I truly am.

"I am sorry, too." Patrick said. "We both have been strained beyond what we are capable of. Ever since you have begun working for Nonnatus House, since last October, more than half a year ago, I feel I am losing you. Or have I lost you already? You are no longer the wife I married. You run yourself into the ground for your patients and your family, yes, that you do But at the same time you forget about yourself. You are taking Valium every day, and even when you are here, I feel that I can't touch you, can't see the real Shelagh behind the shell that you have become."

Shelagh looked at her husband, her eyes big, lips quivering slightly. All colour had left her face. "Is this how you see me?" she whispered. "An empty vessel, no longer useful for anything?"

"No, this is not what I said. You are my wife, the wife that I love and that I want to grow old with. But over the past months, you have been miles away. You have been taking care of everyone around you more than you have of your family. I love you for being a committed and capable medical professional. For I am one, too, I hope. But can't you see that we, I and the children, are paying a price? The children always ill, Angela still not her usual self at day-care, and did Susan tell you that Teddy has been calling her mum several times now? Shelagh, this is where we are right now. And I don't think it is where we want to be."

Patrick buried his face in his hands, his elbows resting on the table. He was desperate. He had been trying to make his wife understand that he was unhappy and the children, too, were not happy.

Just when Shelagh wanted to reply something, Timothy entered the kitchen. He noticed his parents in what seemed a very serious conversation and mumbled "Oh, I am sorry," and quickly walked upstairs.

Both Turners watched their son retreat to his room and remained silent for another while.

"He should be in bed by now," Shelagh murmured, checking her watch.

"See, this is what I meant. I have the impression Timothy has been allowed to do as he pleases with regard to bedtime, or coming home whenever he wants to. Because no one is checking on him."

Shelagh hissed. "You mean no one as in me neglecting her duties. But Patrick, the boy has a father, too. And I believe 17 years is old enough to know when one needs to go to bed."

Patrick shook his head. "What is wrong with you? Ever since you have begun taking the medication I feel as if my wife has been replaced by a person looking like her but different in character. You never before said any of the children were not in need of being cared for."

Shelagh leant forward and angrily snapped: "I remember a ten-year-old boy who was frequently left alone at night, no one cared back then, right?"

"This was a different time and I had no choice. Now with the two of us and two little ones we do have a choice and we can't not have one," Patrick replied sharply. Then he jumped up, causing his chair to topple over with a loud banging noise.

"Patrick, careful, you are going to wake up the children," Shelagh cried.

"I don't care right now," he angrily shouted and opened one of the upper cupboards. When he took out a whisky bottle, Shelagh drew in a sharp breath.

"You have already been drinking tonight," she said in a warning voice. "Don't you think it is enough for now?"

Patrick angrily filled a glass more generously than he had originally intended. He would not take any orders from his wife, not today, not in her state of mind. He took a large sip and sat down his glass with a loud clink, momentarily afraid he must have broken it. "You know, tonight, I really don't care anymore," he barked. "My work of fifteen years just was crushed because of some bloody bureaucrat needing to impress their superior. My wife caring for anyone in Poplar save her own husband. My son doing what he pleases without anyone taking notice. And Stella gone, too. I couldn't care less, not tonight," he spat and refilled the not yet empty glass before taking a few sips again.

Shelagh had meanwhile gotten up from her chair and watched her husband from a distance. "I think it is best one of us will be sleeping in the spare room tonight," she said in a soundless voice. Then she walked around the table and put the chair Patrick had caused to topple upright again.

"Yes, I agree," Patrick said, still agitated, "and perhaps we should just make it a permanent arrangement," he added bitterly.

Shelagh's expression changed from angry to pained and she shook her head, but did not say anything. After a few more moments watching her husband, she slowly turned and walked upstairs.

Patrick listened to the sounds she made. He heard sheets rustling and assumed she was already in the process of taking beddings to the spare room. Probably his, he assumed, since at night, Angela or Teddy would occasionally toddle into their parents' room in search of their mother. He hoped Shelagh would at least consider the children's needs in her arrangements.

Patrick watched his now empty glass. He knew he had had much more than his limit and he needed to stop. He was going to have a very hard day tomorrow. But then, having some more couldn't even hurt more, he thought, and poured himself another glass. He watched the bottle and remembered that someone, he wasn't certain whether Fred or the vicar, had given it to them for Christmas two or three years back. They never drank much, but today, he would probably just finish the bottle that had been more than half full just a few minutes before. Yes, right now, he didn't care, even if it meant that he would need to take a year's dose of aspirin to be able to get out of bed the next morning.

He groaned and reached for the bottle when he suddenly saw Stella's smile in front of him. He felt his eyes get watery. He tried to imagine what Stella would tell him now. She would tell him to stop, that he had had enough. Just what Shelagh had told him. But he was not angry with Stella. He would listen to her, if she was with him now. She had said she wanted to end things, that she did not want to see him anymore.

"Oh, Stella," Patrick groaned again and ran his left hand through his hair. He needed to see her. Perhaps she had changed her mind, perhaps she had come to realize she had made a mistake, he thought.

Next, he found himself in front of her door, shivering, not only because he had forgotten to put on a coat against the late evening chill. There was still light in her living room window, Patrick noticed and he was glad she was still awake. He lightly knocked on the window. With Caroline home, he hesitated to ring the doorbell. After only a few seconds, Stella's face appeared behind the glass. He could see she must have been crying, her eyes were all red and puffy. When she noticed him, Stella softly shook her head. She disappeared again and Patrick was afraid she would just ignore him. But then he heard the door open and Stella appeared in the door frame.

"What do you want?" she asked, her voice quivering, weak from crying, he thought.

"I want you, Stella," Patrick said hoarsely, almost whispering. He slowly walked up the three steps until he stood right in front of her.

"And what makes you think I want you, too?" she whispered.

"The past six months," Patrick said quietly. "I know we have been feeling the same for each other. We are good for each other. And right now, I can' think of anywhere else I would rather want to be."

Stella swallowed. "I meant what I said, that I do not want us to see each other anymore."

"I need you now, Stella," Patrick begged.

Stella opened the door just a bit and said: "Come in, I don't want anyone to see you out here."

Patrick quickly entered the house and as soon as Stella had closed the door drew her into a tight embrace. "No, please," Stella said meekly but did not fend off his actions. Instead, she tentatively leaned into his embrace.

They remained still until Stella said "You are drunk, you smell like a whisky barrel."

Patrick tightened his embrace and murmured into her hair: "I may be drunk but I know what I am doing. I know that I love you and I know that I need you." After another moment standing still, he bent down and began to kiss her carefully. Stella still did not move, nor respond to his actions. She just let it happen, until Patrick ended his kiss and leaned his head back a little. "If you tell me to go, I will go. I promise. But I had to make sure you meant what you said earlier today."

Stella still did not move, not speak, she had even stopped breathing. After a few seconds, she slowly began shaking her head, in very small, hardly visible movements. "No, I don't want you to go," she whispered.

Patrick began kissing her again, this time more intense, more intense than he ever had dared to kiss her before. He began to stroke her back with his hands. When his hands rested on her buttocks for a while, he noticed her body slightly moving against his, her closing her arms around his waist and finally she responded to his kiss. Soon, they found each other breathless from kissing. He wasn't able to say who started it but they were in the middle of undressing each other before they even knew. Patrick was just about to tug Stella's blouse over her heard, after he had begun unbuttoning it while kissing her, when she stilled him with both of her hands.

"No, not here," she whispered. Patrick understood. Caroline was home, of course. He quickly picked up his shirt, tie and vest from the floor and followed Stella upstairs into her bedroom. He remembered he had been here before, and he remembered that whenever his thoughts had wanted to enter this bedroom in the weeks and months after, he had had to violently stop them to go where he was about to be in just a few minutes, he judged by the way their kissing had intensified again.

"We have to be quiet," Stella whispered while she began unbuckling his belt. "Caroline's room is next door." Patrick fought hard to suppress a groan at the feeling of her hands working his trouser buttons. He slowly nodded and quickly worked open the zipper of Stella's skirt, immediately followed by him tugging her slip up. He couldn't wait to touch her soft skin, her breasts, her hips, just everywhere, the whole Stella.

Stella, too, had been efficient and by the time she stood in front of him in just her brassiere and girdle, he was down to just his socks which he quickly took off when he noticed her glancing at his feet. Had he felt dizzy just seconds ago, Patrick felt sober all of a sudden. This was not a moment to miss or waste.

Together, they removed her remaining underwear and finally they stood opposite each other, both completely naked. They smiled at each other, each taking in the other's body, clearly appreciating what they must have imagined ever so often during the past weeks and months. Stella took a step towards Patrick and they joined into another embrace, revelling in feeling each other's warm skin on their own, discovering their scents, learning the feel of his grey and sparse chest hair or the volume and softness of her naked breasts on his abdomen.

Patrick began whispering words of affection into Stella's ear while Stella lightly stroked her fingertips up and down his back, each touch causing a million tingles under his skin. Then they joined in another kiss and began grinding their hips against each other, while slowly moving towards the bed. Stella, who stood with her back to it, laid down first and Patrick followed, covering her body with his, feeling light-headed and excited as he had not in a very long time.

He moaned when he felt Stella opening her legs below him and wiggle her hips into the right position.

Just when he noticed her nod at him, signalling him to go ahead, he heard a shrill cry.

Patrick winced and opened his eyes. He groaned at the light blinding him. He wanted to get up but groaned again when his head felt as if it was about to burst. A sharp pain shot into his back and his neck was stiff.

He realized he had fallen asleep on the settee. Which was never a good idea, and hardly so at his age. He covered his eyes with his hands and from afar heard Shelagh argue with Angela who, according to her crying "not the blue one" did not want to wear whatever Shelagh had picked for her.

Patrick groaned again. He should get up before his family came down. No need for letting on what had been going on between Shelagh and him last night. He felt every single fibre of his body ache when he slowly rose from the settee. He remained sitting for a while, until the walls of the living room had stopped moving. His mouth was dry and his head hurt so badly, his eyesight was blurred.

He slowly got up and walked towards the sink. He took his empty whisky glass, filled it with water and drank all of it without pausing. Then he made his way upstairs. When he passed Angela's and Teddy's room, he noticed Shelagh dressing Angela. He felt his wife's reproachful eyes follow him while he went straight into the bathroom.

Every step, undressing, washing, shaving, took him three times the time he would normally take. He thought bitterly that this must be how he would feel if he reached 70 or 80 years. When he was done in the bathroom, Patrick walked into the bedroom. He still heard voices from the kitchen and decided to wait until everyone had left, as he was not able to face his children on this particular morning.

He laid down on the bed and immediately his thoughts returned to his dream. It had not felt like a dream. It had felt real, as if Stella had been there with him last night. Patrick groaned because he noticed that even though he felt so poorly, a long dormant part of his body still seemed to work.

Suddenly he became aware of the silence downstairs. Shelagh and the children must have left. Patrick got up and mechanically got dressed. Then he went into the kitchen where there was still some tea and toast left on the worktop. Even when they were arguing like last night, she would never not make sure he would have his breakfast.

Patrick did not feel like eating, but figured he needed something to prevent himself from feeling nauseous later in the morning. He quickly gulped down a cup of the lukewarm tea and took a slice of plain toast, which he would eat while driving to the surgery.

When he walked into the reception area of the surgery fifteen minutes later, he noticed a fresh cup of tea on the desk and a neat stack of patient files, seemingly those for this morning's appointments. He couldn't suppress a grin. Stella was back. She had not left, she would still be here with him.

Patrick quickly proceeded into his office and just when he had sat down at his desk, heard the soft clink of a metal spoon against a tea cup. He looked up, smiling happily but his expression turned into a surprised one when it was not Stella but Shelagh who entered his office, carrying his usual morning cup along with the morning post.

"Shelagh?" he panted.

Shelagh looked at him indifferently. "Why, yes?" she asked. "You told me Stella had handed in her notice and since it is my day off I decided I would come in for the morning. I know you don't like to handle surgery on your own. I was able to leave Teddy with Maureen." She placed down the tea cup and the stack of mail in front of him and turned around to leave but was stilled by her husband.

"I am so sorry for last night," Patrick said.

Shelagh looked down at him. "Please, let us not discuss this here and now. This is hardly the place with Nurse Crane around and patients coming in any minute."

"When is the right time, Shelagh?" Patrick cried. "We never seem to find the right time anymore."

He was desperate, but Shelagh wiggled off his loose grip and took a few steps around his desk before she looked back at him again and said: "We will find the right time, but now, we have patients to care for." She quickly left his office and Patrick momentarily felt a sharp pain stinging his head. He rummaged through his medical bag for another aspirin and put the little box into the top drawer of his desk. He would certainly need more in the course of the day.


	16. Back onto the right road

**Back onto the right road**

Later that day, Patrick made certain to be home in time for dinner. While in his car, noticing how different the streets seemed on his way home this time of the day, he realized how during the past months he had too often not cared about the time. He had frequently reproached Shelagh for being absent, but all of a sudden he came to understand that he, too, had begun to avoid his family at certain times of the day. He had too often missed dinner, and, also too often, had left the house in the morning before everyone else had finished their breakfast.

Why was that, he wondered. Did he just seek another reason for telling Shelagh she was never there when it was also part of his own responsibility? Tension had become difficult to bear between them. Perhaps he had also figured that if only one of them was with the children, they would not notice that their parents were not too happy with each other at the moment.

At home, Patrick found Shelagh, Teddy and Angela on the patio, where the children were playing and Shelagh was folding laundry. He sat down next to his wife and watched their children for a while, thinking that even though they were living through such a rough patch currently, he still could not be more proud of his family. Each of his children was simply perfect, even Angela having her fits of rage or Tim who much too quickly turned into a young adult and would soon leave to enter a new stage of his life, far away from his family.

Patrick watched Shelagh carefully folding their children's underwear while never losing track of Teddy's whereabouts. The little boy never sat still, and kept breaking or hiding anything that lay around the house.

Suddenly, a warm feeling of peace spread across Patrick's belly, one he used to know from the time before things had gotten so wrong. The bliss of being with his family, the bliss of having a happy home. Angela came to him to show him an empty snail's house she had found in one of the flower pots and he admired it and stroked the little girl's soft hair. How could he ever have risked all of this, or not realized it was where he was supposed to be, where he was needed most?

He thought of Stella, and a momentary sting of bitterness and of jealousy hit him in his stomach. She certainly would find another man who deserved her and whom she would make very happy. Life was full of choices and of crossroads. He had made a choice and taken his vows when he got married to Shelagh. He had a responsibility for his wife, and needed to help her to get though the hard time she was experiencing at the moment.

He probably was still in love with Stella, he thought, and he smiled a small smile when her face, lighting up so many of his days, appeared in front of his inner eye. He would always keep her in his heart. But for now, the major part of his heart belonged to his family.

"What is it?" Shelagh asked and it took Patrick a while to return from being entangled within his thoughts to reality and his wife.

"What? What do you mean?" he asked.

"You were smiling, while you were lost in your thoughts," Shelagh explained. "What were you thinking about?"

"Oh, nothing, and everything really," he said. "I was thinking about how we need to be grateful for all we have," he looked at his wife and Shelagh nodded slowly.

She looked at him and cocked her head before she spoke in a quiet voice: "After the amount of whisky you had last night, I suppose you are not feeling too well today. I think we need to talk again. Last night was not how we should ever again talk to each other." She paused and let him take in her words for a while.

"I understand that perhaps today you need to lie down early," she continued, "but we should aim to talk tomorrow. I think we both have some things we need to tell each other."

"No," he sighed, "I think we need to talk tonight." He sat up straight and stretched his back, still store after last night on the settee. He groaned and continued: "You are right, I feel terrible, but I brought it on myself against my better judgement. I don't want us to spend another night like the last one. The sooner we talk, the better."

He paused and watched his wife for a while. He couldn't read her expression, she was too focused on her task, but he assumed she was deliberately doing so, so as not to risk crying in front of their children. He noticed the corners of her mouth twitch, a certain sign that she was fighting back tears. Just when he wanted to say something comforting, they heard a loud sound, followed by a sharp cry.

"Oh, no, Teddy, what is it this time?" Shelagh cried, placed the laundry into the basked next to her chair and ran to the little boy who had broken a large flower pot and cut his naked foot on one of the shards.

Patrick, too, hurried to his son. Shelagh held the crying boy while Patrick carefully examined the chubby foot, and noticed with relief that while it was quite a deep cut, it would not require stitches. A bandage, applied as tightly as possible, would do. "I'll fetch my bag real quick," he said, "go wash the wound and we'll meet in the kitchen."

He hurried into the house to do as he had said. Tending to Teddy was followed by dinner time, then bedtime. In between Timothy, for once happy to meet his father at an early hour, approached Patrick with a few questions on his biology homework. To Patrick's dismay, he needed almost an hour to look up information he was supposed to have in his head, but he realized that he had long since forgotten.

It was past nine o'clock when Patrick and Shelagh finally met in their kitchen. Patrick prepared himself a strong cup of Nescafé to help him focus during what would be another serious conversation.

"Can I treat you to a cup, too? " he asked gently, when Shelagh walked down the stairs.

She shook her head: "No, thank you, I think I am going to stick to tea tonight." She sighed. "Oof, Angela wouldn't stop to ask me questions about all sorts of things tonight. I don't know how she manages to keep herself awake. I think she is past the age where she needs an afternoon nap." Shelagh sat down at the table and watched her husband prepare tea for her. "But we are not supposed to talk about Angela now, aren't we?" she stated more than she asked.

She smiled affectionately at her husband who meanwhile had finished his task and walked over to the table, carrying both of their cups. "You look awfully tired, Patrick, "Shelagh said gently. "I should be angry with you because I have never seen you drink so much before, and never drink out of anger or despair, for that matter."

"But?" he asked

"But I can't. You feeling so poorly is enough a punishment. And being angry now won't help to solve our problems. We have never had an argument like the one last night. I was not able to sleep all night. I realized that it was not us talking last night. Whatever has happened between us, I feel we must work to set it up straight. This is not us, and this is not what neither we nor our children deserve."

Patrick extended his hand and covered Shelagh's with his. "I was thinking the same earlier today when we sat outside with the children. We both made mistakes and have moved us into this dire situation. But I feel that as long as we are able to talk, we can undo the trouble we have gotten caught into."

Shelagh nodded, biting her lips. For a while, both sat in silence, each occasionally sipping from their cups. Patrick still held his wife's hand and softly stroked its back with his thumb. He realized he had missed her touching him, but when had he last deliberately touched her out of affection?

"I have made mistakes, too," he eventually said. Shelagh looked up and gave him a questioning look.

"I kept telling you that you were running yourself in the ground, that you needed to change, that you were wrong. But I, too, was wrong. I was not there for your and the children as much as you needed me during this difficult time." He paused and breathed a few times. "I realized just now that I missed you so much, but, that you, probably, must have missed me, too, when I was not here, physically or mentally."

Shelagh smiled a weary smile. "Yes, we both have made mistakes," she said meekly. Then she got up and retrieved a small cardboard box from her handbag which sat on the worktop. She returned to the table and sat down, putting the box in front of her.

Patrick looked at his wife: "Valium?"

"Yes," she said in a quiet voice. "I want you to get rid of it and to not give me any more of it. You were right all along. It helped at first but I should have realized much earlier that if I can only manage my life with the help of medication, something is not right."

Patrick smiled a half-smile and took the box from the table. He slid it into his pocket and got up from his chair. He walked around the table and sat down on the chair next to Shelagh. He turned towards her and tucked a lose strand of hair behind her ear. "There is another thing that is very right," he said.

Shelagh raised her eyebrows. "Is there?"

"Yes, there is," Patrick said and took her hands into both of his. "We promised on the day of our wedding we would always be there for one another and I think what we are going now is proof that we are living up to our vows. It took us quite some time to remember, but I feel that we are back on the right track, even though we will still need a bit of time until we have fully recovered."

Shelagh nodded and sighed. "What do you suggest then?"

"I would be very happy if you returned to the surgery, to working with me," he said hesitantly. "I know that working with Nonnatus House is where you can apply your skills best. But I have been missing you and I think we would be able to manage better, the two of us, if you returned to the surgery. We could find you another role than receptionist. With the Maternity Home closing, we need to think about what else to do with the premises. Which other clinics we could offer and I think a practice nurse would be a valuable addition."

Shelagh nodded again and leaned forward just a tiny bit. "A practice nurse? Well, this would certainly be an interesting role," she said, her voice getting more excited as she spoke. "We could hire a part-time receptionist? Think of it, we might expand the ulcer clinic and the chest clinic:"

Patrick chuckled. "That's my girl. I am so glad you are making plans again, love."

Shelagh smiled for a few seconds, until her expression turned earnest again. "I am so sorry. I stopped taking Valium about ten days ago. It was the weekend when I stayed at Nonnatus House from Saturday afternoon until Sunday evening. I had forgotten the box at home and I didn't dare coming home to pick it up because Angela and Teddy would certainly have not wanted me to leave again. So I decided that it might be about time to just stop taking them altogether. I felt very poorly for the first few days, which made me realize that I had been taking them for much too long."

She paused and Patrick smiled warmly at her, shuffling his chair closer to hers, so he could easily lean forward and kiss her cheek. "I think you did the right thing," he whispered in her ear "and I am proud of you."

Shelagh leaned in to him and all of a sudden, Patrick hugged her tightly. Shelagh gasped at first but quickly returned the hug, sighing into Patrick's ear. "I have missed you so much, Patrick, and only realized it once I stopped taking those pills. They did help me to do my work and all of my other tasks, but they completely erased anything I had been feeling. This cannot be right, and realizing this has left me in shock. How could I ever fail you or the children?"

"You did not fail me, love," Patrick soothed her, murmuring into her hair. "You were absent, yes, but I always knew I had you by my side and we would get back on track eventually."

The pair sat still for a long while. Only when Patrick could no longer stand the stinging pain that had begun to hit his back he withdrew and rubbed his back with both of his hands. "I am sorry, but I need to sit upright for a short moment."

Shelagh smiled compassionately. "I am sorry, dear, why don't we just move to the settee?"

Patrick groaned, for the split of a second remembering his last encounter with said piece of furniture. "What is it?" Shelagh asked, slightly alarmed.

"I would rather go to bed," Patrick confessed. "Last night took its toll, not only on my body, but if I sit down at the settee, I am going to fall asleep. And if I get to spend another night on the settee, I won't be able to move tomorrow morning."

Shelagh placed a quick kiss on his cheek. "You haven't been very careful with yourself lately, too," she stated. "And now with Mrs Gillespie gone, I think it is about time I return to the surgery. I relied on her to take care of you, now I need to do it myself again. And I want to, Patrick, believe me," she added.

Shealgh bit her lips again, and Patrick couldn't help but think she was about to say something.

"What is it, dear?" he eventually asked.

"Don't think me daft, but – " she paused. "I was thinking Mrs Gillespie fancied you more than would be appropriate for an employee," she said carefully.

Patrick felt all colour leave his face. She knew. Of course, she would know, how could she not.

"Oh Patrick, don't look at me like this," Shelagh chuckled. "You look like a little boy who got caught emptying the biscuit tin," she laughed. "I know I am being silly. I think she is just a genuinely caring woman. And I could not be more certain that you would never do as much as look at another woman in a way that would even remotely be considered inappropriate."

Patrick cleared his throat. His mouth felt dry and a bitter taste coated his tongue. He could never tell Shelagh anything about his feelings for Stella, it would crush her. And had they not made amends right now, with Stella gone?

He smiled wearily. "I am sad that she has left," he said. "But since it means that you are coming back, how could I truly regret it? I am certain she is going to find another position very soon, and it was very good having her there. But no one compares to you, Shelagh."

Shelagh laughed and got up from her chair. "Where do you want to sleep tonight," she asked playfully. "Your bed is still made up in the spare room."

Patrick got up, too, and looked at her earnestly. "You wouldn't mind me sleeping right there tonight?" he asked tentatively.

"Oh no, please," she replied. "I already expected you preferring a room on your own, not with one the children coming in at 5 am all the time."

"Oh, Shelagh," Patrick groaned and placed another kiss on her cheek. "You know me too well." He stretched his aching limbs, gave his wife a last affectionate look and walked upstairs where he quickly got ready for bed.

Once he was in bed, he had expected to fall asleep in an instant. But instead, he was kept awake by his heart racing. Next to his ridiculously high pulse, his last cup of very strong coffee also had caused him an unpleasant episode of heartburn. Also, his back pain was becoming worse and he was not able to find a position sparing him the pain.

And on top of it all, Stella's smile appeared again, and it made no difference whether his eyes were closed or open. She was there, waiting for him, and Patrick felt unease crawling up his stomach. Had he just used her to satisfy his needs while his marriage had hit a rough patch? This was not how he thought of himself. And it was certainly not what Stella deserved. She deserved a happy home just like he and Shelagh did. And he had let her on and made her unhappy, caused her to cry. It made him sad thinking of her being at her house now, all alone, without anyone to hold her and ease her pain.

He wondered if he ever would be able to apologize. She had made it very clear that she did not want to see him right now. But within a few months time, there must be an opportunity of setting things right with her, he thought. She deserved an apology and to be told what an extraordinarily wonderful person she was. Patrick groaned, when his back hurt again. He remembered last night's dream of Stella and felt relieved and sad at the same time that the events he had dreamt about never had taken place in real life. Relieved because he and Shelagh were talking again and had started the process of returning back onto the right road. But sad because he valued Stella for all she was and because he knew his feelings for her were much more than just a momentary infatuation. She would always inhabit a special place in his heart, right next to his wife. How could he ever forget about her?


End file.
